


Rags, Riches, and Rogues

by Elenduen



Category: The Musketeers (2014), d'Artagnan Romances (Three Musketeers Series) - All Media Types
Genre: Billionaire Athos, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enforcer Porthos, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Murder, Musketeers/Gotham fusion, Police Officer Treville, Prostitute Aramis, Slow Burn, Thief d'Artagnan, d'Artagnan Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2018-09-27
Packaged: 2019-02-24 07:12:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 34
Words: 64,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13208637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elenduen/pseuds/Elenduen
Summary: A New Fic for a New Year!A Musketeer/Gotham fusionAthos is Kind of Bruce Wayne, with d'Artagnan kind of Selina Kyle.The De La Fere Industry is the most powerful company with many political connections, but politics is a dirty game and there are those who will go to any lengths for power.Athos and his Brother are determined to run the company without making dirty deals and propping up corrupt politicians after their parents death.Then Thomas is Murdered.d'Artagnan witnesses the murder which places him in extreme danger.Athos offers him protection taking him, and his friends Aramis and Porthos into his home, but danger is closer than he thinks...





	1. Chapter 1

d’Artagnan had been on the streets for five years now, since his Father had been shot by a mugger leaving him orphaned and penniless. 

Alexandre d’Artagnan had been a farmer, had owned a small holding that had sadly fallen into debt, while alive he could keep the debtors at bay he could not do so once he was dead and within a month the farm had been seized the pay off the debts. 

Having no family d’Artagnan had become a ward of the state, this naturally meant he was taken into care. A state run foster home that he only managed to stand for a few days before he gathered together what was left of his belongings and caught a bus into the city. 

 

A Twelve year old on the streets has few options and d’Artagnan was no exception. 

At first he survived by selling things in pawn shops, clothes, shoes, his computer games, not his laptop though, that had been taken by the debtors.  
This source of income lasted him a month and he managed to feed himself on fast food and slept in doorsteps and on park benches.

However his money soon dwindled and all he had left was two pairs of jeans one in black and the other in dark blue, a pair of sturdy boots he would not part with, a leather jacket of dark brown, a long sleeved black T-shirt that he wore beneath a light grey T-Shirt, and a long sleeved blue T-Shirt that he wore beneath a black T-Shirt. 

These items along with two pairs of boxers were all he had left of his clothing, non that he could afford to spare. 

 

For two days he went without food trying to figure out what he was going to do to survive when he was joined by one of the other homeless he had met during the month he’d been living in the city. 

The boys name was Porthos, he had spent his whole life on the streets, he didn’t even know how old he was since he had no idea when he’d been born.   
Having grown into a large and imposing figure with more than a little skill with his fists he was now making his way as an enforcer for the various gangs in the City, while many wanted him to be their fist alone Porthos preferred to be freelance and did not ally with any. 

Before he had become an enforcer however he had been a thief and a pick pocket, and having developed a fondness for d’Artagnan during the last four weeks decided to take the boy under his wing and teach him what he knew so the boy could fend for himself. 

 

Once he got over his nerves d’Artagnan proved himself to be a nimble fingered pick pocket and a wily thief. 

Sure footed, agile, and swift he moved like a cat through the streets, weaving between pedestrians and swiping purses and wallets without ever slowing down. 

As graceful as an aerialist he used fire escapes, lamp posts, and drain pipes to scale walls up to windows he learned to pry open to gain entrance to shops and stores which he either robbed of their wares to sell on later or emptied the tills of cash. 

To keep from losing himself, from losing what his Father had taught him about right and wrong he built a moral code for himself that he stuck to. 

He never robbed the elderly, the disabled, pregnant women, or children, and he never broke into homes. 

While he carried a flick knife in his belt to protect himself, and thanks to Porthos was able to handle himself in a fight after having been beaten up more than once, he had no intentions of hurting anyone unless it was in the defence of himself, or another. 

 

Now at seventeen having grown tall and skinny he was known as d’Art among the homeless and criminals of the city for the speed with which he moved. 

A speed he was using right now as he shoved his way past pedestrians, relieving a business man of a very fat wallet as he spoke on his phone to someone he referred to as “Snookums!” 

He continued on down the street swiping a bag of Dorito’s from a woman’s shopping bag, and then four cans of beer from a twelve pack a frat boy was carrying along with what looked like half a liquor store!. 

Smiling happily he shoved the wallet, food and drink into his satchel and slung it on his back, turned the corner and went into a darkened alley only to stop dead when his sharp eyes saw a figure approaching from the opposite direction. 

 

Looking round he quickly located a fire escape on the right of the alley and swiftly scaled it to hide himself in the dark shadows watching and listening as the man made his way down the alley talking on his mobile phone. 

 

The Man was Thomas de la Fere, younger son of the late Industrialist Armand de la Fere who had died with his wife in a car crash two years earlier. 

Thomas and his Elder brother Athos now ran their Father’s Billion Dollar company which controlled half the city and had powerful political connections. 

As homeless as he was d’Artagnan was still able to recognize Thomas de la Fere from the Papers.   
Curiously he watched the young man as he made his way down the street speaking into his phone. 

“Call me the second you get this ‘Thos, I know you don’t want to hear this, I know you won’t thank me for this but you have to know the truth about her. This is not about me being jealous or anything like that, this is about Her, who she really is, and about our parents!”

Thomas sighed and shifted the folder at his side, “I am sorry brother, I know this will hurt, and if I didn’t love you so much I wouldn’t be telling you this, but I do love you and that is why I have to do this Athos, I can’t lose you, not like we lost our parents…” 

Thomas did not finish the sentence, he did not end the phone call, he did not get all the way down the alley. 

A muffled shot, quietened by a silencer rang echoed dully like a loud sneeze in the alley making d’Artagnan jump and shrink back into the shadows as a bullet pierced the back of Thomas’s head and then exploded out of his face. 

In a shower of blood, bone, and brain matter Thomas crumpled to the ground dropping his phone and folder besides him splattering them in blood. 

 

From the narrow alley behind a shop a figure carrying a gun stepped into the dimly lit alley making their way up to the fallen body of Thomas de la Fere. 

d’Artagnan could not see a face, the light was too poor and whomever it was wore a black skull cap and a high collar that cast their face in shadow. 

However the black leather jacket and pants they wore was form fitting and a female silhouette was revealed to d’Artagnan as the woman stepped over Thomas, relieving him of the folder and checking his phone. 

She clucked her tongue unhappily, “Now I have a phone call to delete” she grumbled unhappily, “But at least I have the evidence and I no longer have to contend with you”, delivering a vicious kick to Thomas’s limp thigh she placed her gun into a holster inside her coat and made her way back to the narrow alley, moments later d’Artagnan heard a motorbike engine start up and saw the woman ride away leaving the cooling body of Thomas de la Fere. 

 

******************************************************************************************************* 

 

Porthos was laying back on filthy mattress on the bare floor with a thread bare sheet covering him from his hips down.   
He drew on a cigarette and flicked the ash onto the floor and stretched languidly with a lazy smile spreading over his face as he watched his wickedly handsome lover Aramis brushing his hair before a cracked mirror that was hung on the wall. 

Aramis was a prostitute and a dominatrix. 

He sold himself on the streets to wealthy perverts willing to pay for their pleasures. 

He and Porthos had been together now for nearly two years, after Porthos had kicked the shit out Aramis’s pimp Marsac who’d been beating the young man for not making him enough money. 

Porthos had taken Aramis “Home” with him, and treated his injuries, had given Aramis a place to stay with him and d’Artagnan. 

While it was only a loft above an abandoned and derelict ware house it was better than nothing and Aramis had been more than grateful. 

Over time he and Aramis had grown closer, Porthos had taken to acting as “Protector” for Aramis, watching over him as he “Worked” making sure the punters didn’t hurt him and that Marsac or other Pimps didn’t try anything either. 

Naturally as they grew closer and feelings developed the two of them fell into a relationship that had continued on over the past two years. 

Aramis had moved into the loft permanently with Porthos and d’Artagnan and never looked back since. 

 

People would likely think that the three of them made an odd family, an enforcer, a prostitute, and a thief!. 

But a family they were. 

They had made the loft as homely as they could. 

They had hung curtains from the rafters to act as walls and give privacy.  
Porthos and Aramis had their double mattress on the far right of the loft while d’Artagnan had a hammock on the far left. 

In the middle of the loft they had a stolen TV that they hooked up to the city power grid for electricity. 

They also had a small hot plate to cook on, and a kettle, cups, and chipped plates. 

Porthos and d’Artagnan had stolen bean bags from a furniture store, and they had found a ratty old sofa being thrown out which they had brought in creating a modest but comfy living room for them to share. 

 

The thump of something being thrown into the loft caught the attention of both Porthos and Aramis, followed by the creaking of some of the floor boards.   
“D’Art’s ‘ome then” Porthos said stubbing out his cigarette and rising from the mattress to sling on a pair of combat trousers  
“Let’s ‘ope the lil sod ‘as some grub with ‘im, I’m starving!” 

Aramis snickered as he slipped a thin kimono on and tied the belt loosely about his waist   
“You’re always hungry!” he said slipping an arm about Porthos’s waist 

“Well I’m ever likely t’be enit!” Porthos drawled pulled Aramis in for a kiss “When you keep wearin’ me out in bed like this!” 

Aramis chuckled and leaned into the kiss which sadly did not go any further as a knock on the wall beyond the curtain announced d’Artagnan 

“Come in” Aramis said breaking contact with Porthos as d’Artagnan slipped from behind the curtain 

“I come bearing gifts” he said tossing them both a can of beer, “There’s some dorito’s in the sitting room too”

“That it?, you’ve been gone hours” Porthos said opening his beer can 

d’Artagnan shrugged “I got some guys wallet too so we can go shopping tomorrow”

Aramis frowned and looked at d’Artagnan curiously, there was something off about him 

“Are you alright?” he asked 

d’Artagnan was not a good liar, especially not to those he thought of as family, so he did not bother to try to do so now.

 

“I saw a man get shot in an alley”

“Shit are you alright?” Porthos barked moving up to d’Artagnan to check him over for injury “Did anyone see you?” 

“No” d’Artagnan said “I hid before it happened”.

 

Opening his beer Aramis sat down on the mattress, “Was it a mugging?, gang rivalry?”

“No” d’Artagnan shook his head “Murder, she shot him through the back of the head because of information he had on her”, at the frown on the faces of his brothers he explained “I heard him speaking on his phone before he was shot, and saw a woman go and take what I guess was evidence from him when he was dead”

“Christ!” Aramis whispered crossing himself 

“And you’re sure she didn’t see you?” Porthos asked worried for his little brother’s safety 

“I’m sure” d’Artagnan said, “If she had I’d be dead, there’s no way she’d have let me live”

Porthos nodded and grunted 

“I called the cops too” d’Artagnan added “Anonymously, I just told them about the body”

“You didn’t wait for ‘em to show up?” Porthos asked, at d’Artagnan’s disgusted expression he nodded his head “Cause you didn’t”, he ruffled d’Artagnan’s hair “You alright?” 

“Yeah” d’Artagnan said smiling though the smile did not reach his eyes “I’m gonna go to bed”

“You sure?” Aramis asked 

“Uh huh!”

Aramis sighed and rose from the mattress joining Porthos, “You think he’s okay?” 

“As he ever is” Porthos replied and kissed Aramis’s head “We’ll keep an eye for a few days just to be sure”

Aramis made a pleased noise and snuggled close to his lover. 

 

d’Artagnan meanwhile went to his side of the loft and flung himself into his hammock, opening his beer he took a large mouthful and swung his left leg over the side of the hammock to make it swing. 

The sight of Thomas being shot brought back the memory of Alexandre being shot, reminded him of being a frightened child sprayed in blood, kneeling besides his Father’s body as he died of his wounds. 

While Athos was not a child but a grown man of Twenty Four and he had not been the witness of Thomas’s death as d’Artagnan had been to Alexandre, he would no doubt be feeling much of what d’Artagnan had done himself five years earlier. 

It made d’Artagnan wonder about Athos and sympathize for him, but he had already done as much as he was prepared to and it wasn’t like Athos was a defenceless child, he was a rich and powerful adult, he would be alright, at least that was what d’Artagnan told himself as he took another mouthful of beer and closed his eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

La Fare Manor 

 

Detective Jean Armand de Treville always felt it was harder to tell the loved ones of a loss than it was the view the corpse of a victim. 

One could become hardened to the sight of blood, severed limbs, decapitations, drug over doses, after a brief moment of shock and perhaps a hint of nausea the sight of a body or the remains of one no longer had any effect upon them. 

But the sight of a loved one paling, of their faces falling, their eyes filling with tears still struck the heart as powerfully as it did the first time one witnessed it. 

 

The sight of the young Billionaire industrialist Athos de la Fare collapsing to his knees with a face the colour of flour made Treville’s heart clench in empathy for him. 

Truly it was unfair, already the young man had suffered the brutal loss of his parents and to now have his brother taken from him like this was beyond cruel. 

 

“I am deeply sorry for your loss Monsieur de la Fare” he said knowing that the words were empty but having to say something

“Why?” Athos whispered his voice choked with grief, he looked up at Treville, his face streaked with tears, his eyes brimming with more, “Why would anyone do this?” 

Treville drew a breath and wet his lips with his tongue “I’m afraid we do not yet know a motive Monsieur and I would be hesitant to speculate”

Athos clasped a hand over his mouth and made a heart wrenching groaning sound that he tried to stifle with his hand 

“Athos?” 

 

Both Athos and Treville looked up at the sound of the female voice to see a handsome young woman in a smart and stylish modern business suite at the opposite end of the room.

“What is it?” she asked dropping down her brief case and running towards Athos as fast as he three inch stiletto heeled shoes and tight fitting pencil skirt would allow. 

“Athos what’s happened?” she cried dropping to her knees besides Athos and putting her arms about his trembling shoulders 

“Anne!” Athos whimpered “Anne it’s Thomas!”, his face crumpled and he sank into her arms burying his face into her shoulder with sobs shaking his frame 

“Thomas what…?” 

“I’m sorry Mademoiselle?” Treville asked 

“Anne, Anne de Bruiel I am Athos’s Fiancé” 

“Mademoiselle de Bruiel I regret to inform you that your brother-in-law to be Thomas de la Fare was killed early this evening”

Anne’s green eyes widened and her face paled in shock “My God Thomas!” 

“He was shot!” Athos forced out lifting his face from Anne’s shoulder “Someone shot him in the head!”

Anne’s brow creased and she cupped Athos’s face “My poor darling, I am so sorry”, looking up at Treville she met his gaze  
“Do you have any leads detective, do you have any idea who did this or why they did it?”

“Not yet Mademoiselle” Treville said “However there is a…witness, a boy who called the police, he may know something”.

 

Wiping his eyes on his shirt sleeves Athos took a deep breath and looked up at Treville 

“Where is he?” he asked 

Treville sighed “We don’t know, the call was made from a public phone box, anonymously, the chances are the boy is a street kid who doesn’t want to get involved with the law because he has a criminal record, finding him will likely be impossible”

“What about CCTV?” Athos asked 

Treville shook his head “The alley your Brother was found in had non and the cameras on the streets at either end were only on shop fronts not the walk ways” 

“So we have nothing” Anne whispered. 

 

Athos shakily rose to his feet and walked a few paces away from both Anne and Treville before he stopped and braced himself with his palms against the wall dropping his head and taking deep steady breaths. 

“We are only just beginning our investigations Mademoiselle” Treville said 

“Oh Anne please” she said rising to her feet and smoothing down her skirt 

“Anne, we will do our upmost to find the culprit who ever he or she maybe, and while I appreciate that this is a difficult time the more I learn about Thomas the better, his habits, his friends, any worries or difficulties he may have had”

“Of course” Anne said “Anything you need”

“What about an appeal?”.

 

The question came out of no where and surprised both Anne and Treville as Athos straightened up and turned towards them.

“I’m sorry Monsieur?” Treville said shaking his head in confusion 

“An appeal for this witness, whoever he is to come forward with whatever information he has”  
Athos explained “We can offer him protection can’t we?, assure him that he will have immunity from past offences?” 

Treville paused before making a reply 

“That is a possibility but…”

“Every nutter looking for fifteen minutes of fame will come forward” Anne said shaking her head “It would create chaos and we would have no idea if the real person would even bother coming forward”

“I’m afraid she does have a point Monsieur, appeals always lead to ever lunatic in the city inundating the phone lines with nonsense, and it is very unlikely the witness would come forward in fear of retribution”

“But I said immunity..”

“Not from the law” Treville explained “From other criminals who would see it as his “Grassing” to the police, he’s be at risk of a severe beating if nothing more and we can not spare the resources to provide round the clock protection”

“Not even witness protection?” Athos asked “Give him a new identity, place to live?”, at Treville’s unhappy expression he pursed his lips and looked away shaking his head before he looked back 

“What if I personally paid for the appeal?” he suggested, “Personally arranged protection and a place to stay, even a financial reward for coming forward?”

“Athos offering money will have everyone in the city calling!” Anne cried 

“Yes” Athos said “But to get the money they have to be able to provide real information that The Police can verify and will not receive payment until there has been a conviction”

“Athos….”

“That might work” Treville said nodding his head “It certainly wouldn’t hurt to try”

“Very well then” Athos said running his hands over his face “There is bound to be a pack of reporters on the doorstep by morning, I’ll have to give them a statement, I can make the appeal then?” 

“I’ll have to check with my superiors but I do not see why not” Treville agreed “I will speak to them at once Monsieur” 

“Thank you” Athos said unable to summon a smile 

“I’m afraid we will have to have a more formal interview tomorrow, but for tonight I would suggest you try to get some rest” 

Anne wrapped an arm about Athos’s shoulder’s and held him close 

“I’ll see to him” she said giving Treville a winning smile “After all we are family or at least very soon to be”. 

 

*******************************************************************************************************

 

A sleeping pill crushed and put in a brandy got Athos off into a deep sleep quickly enough gaining Anne the chance to take his mobile phone, find and delete the message from Thomas upon it. 

Already she had burned the evidence he had collected and informed her employer of her success, and now she had all the lose ends tied up. 

Well nearly all the lose ends.

A witness

Had there been someone in that alley?.

She had thought she had seen a shadow moving as Thomas as started down the alley but had dismissed it as something in the street beyond. 

Of course this witness could just be someone who stumbled on the body and had seen nothing, in such a case she would have nothing to fear. 

In the other case then she did have something to worry about. 

If someone had seen her shoot Thomas then there was a chance, a small but possible chance that they might be able to identify her. If this was the case then she would have to find and eliminate him very soon, before he had a chance to tell anyone what he had seen.


	3. Chapter 3

Aramis had come to the city at Fifteen. 

He was an orphan, had lost his mother to cancer when he was a very small child. 

Without any other family, or at least any that cared about him he became a ward of the state who saw fit to put him in a Catholic Church run orphanage.   
The Nuns were not bad women, and the Priest was a good man, the children were treated well, always had good food on the table, clothes on their backs, and shoes on their feet. 

They were not neglected or abused in anyway, but there was a strictness to the Nuns and Father that as an adolescent Aramis had rebelled against. 

As many teenagers do he had fallen in with a bad crowd at school. 

Started skipping classes, drinking, staying out all night and disappearing for days on end.

He was caught shop lifting, trying purchase alcohol, putting graffiti on public property, getting into fights. 

The Nuns had been at their wits end with him and the Father beside himself on what to do about Aramis when he had taken it upon himself to leave. 

 

He had thought himself in love, had fallen for an older man, Marsac. 

The older man had been a motorbike rider, lived in leather, had tattoos, piercings, drank whiskey from a hip flask, swore on every other words.

He was constantly in fights, constantly smoking questionable substances, constantly in trouble. 

He was bad news in every shape and form, yet to Aramis he seemed perfect. 

 

He’d fallen for Marsac hard, adored his bad boy attitude, had let himself be sucked in by him and run away with him to the City. 

Of course that was where the fairy tale had ended. 

There was not fancy apartment, no endless parties, not unending wealth. 

All there was a miserable bedsit in a decrepit building that was ravaged with damp, stank of alcohol, sweat, and urine, was covered in gang symbols, with blood, vomit, beer cans, and used needles spread all over the floor. 

 

To say he had been disappointed had been an understatement, but Aramis’s pride had prevented him from returning home, and he was still far too under Marsac’s spell to do so. 

He instead tried to make things work, tried to find himself work to provide money and pay rent to the over weight, alcoholic land lord who came calling every week for it. 

Tried to bring in food, tried to do whatever he could to make things better. 

Marsac was of course no help to him, all he did was drink and use drugs, and when he wasn’t fucking Aramis he was slapping him for any number of reasons he could think up. 

Aramis didn’t think things could actually get any worse until six weeks after he’d arrived and then they did. 

One night when they had no money at all the Land Lord came calling, half drunk, bad tempered, and horny he’d demanded payment, and Marsac had given it to him, the form of Aramis. 

 

That had been the first time Marsac had pimped him out but not the last, soon it became a weekly arrangement, Aramis would prostitute himself to the landlord so they could live their rent free, and if he argued or tried to get out of it he’d be beaten black and blue by Marsac until he complied. 

Then it progressed, soon Marsac was bringing men home for Aramis to sleep with, first two or three a week, then one or two a day, and finally he was dressing him up and shoving him out on the streets to pick up perverts in cars or coming out of bars. 

Five long miserable years went past and Aramis had all but become resigned to his fate as a whore with Marsac as his pimp. 

 

Then came Porthos, his saviour, his dark knight, the one who had freed him from Marsac and given him his independence back. 

 

Aramis had been so grateful to him, was so very grateful to him, and to d’Artagnan for letting him into their home, for taking care of him, for helping find himself again. 

 

Aramis hadn’t know that he would fall in love with Porthos at the start of their friendship, had certainly not expected the other man to feel anything for him. 

But they had fallen for each other, they did love each other, and Aramis had been happier in the last two years than he could ever remember being. 

He might still work as a prostitute, but he called the shots now, he decided who he would fuck, how much he would charge and when it was done, he got to keep the money he earned and spend it how he saw fit, he was no longer being beaten, no longer controlled by anyone but himself. 

He had a loving protective boyfriend, a little brother, a home, everything he’d always wanted, which was why he was protective of it and his small family. 

So when he found d’Artagnan perched on one of the beanbags watching the news, or rather an appeal being put out on the news Aramis found himself worrying. 

 

********************************************************************************************************

 

La Fare Manor 

 

This was not the first time in his life that Athos had been before a sea of cameras, nor the first time that he was in front of them following grief. 

But it was the first time he’d stood before the press without Thomas at his side.

 

Thomas had always been the suave one, had been the charmer that put people at ease, the fun brother, the one with the gift of the gab, the natural flirt that everyone fell for. 

Thomas had been at home before the cameras, had loved the attention, had loved to shine before an audience. 

Athos however did not. 

 

He didn’t have his Brother’s way with words, he couldn’t relax when put before a crowd, he always seemed to become tongue tied and started sweating. 

He didn’t like loud wild parties, didn’t like being in large crowds, he liked a quieter existence, liked to be curled up on the sofa in the evening with a good book or a good movie on the tv. 

He wasn’t the life and soul of a party, he was a quiet gentleman who preferred to remain out of the spotlight. 

But today, for his Brother, to bring his Brother’s killer to justice he would stand in the spot light and do what needed to be done. 

 

“Thank you for coming” he said clearing his throat and taking a deep breath he clasped his shaking sweaty hands in front of himself and spoke as clearly as he could.

“Last night my Brother Thomas de la Fare was murdered. He was shot in the head at point blank range by person or persons unknown. His murder was witnessed by someone, a young man who phoned the police reporting my Brother’s death. We do not know who this young man is or how much he knows of what happened to my Brother and I am appealing to him now, please come forward and give us your information, you will be provided with protection, and a substantial reward” 

Swallowing hard Athos took another breath and whispered “Thank you” to the press before stepping back and letting Treville take over.

“Well done” Anne said rubbing his back and kissing his cheek “You are very brave”

“I don’t know about brave love” Athos said leaning into her touch “I just hope that it works and whom ever he is comes forward with what he knows”.

 

********************************************************************************************************

 

D’Artagnan startled slight as Aramis turned off the TV and stood before it 

“You never said it was Thomas de la Fare that was shot” 

d’Artagnan shrugged “I didn’t see his face clearly, it was dark” 

Aramis narrowed his eyes at the youngster “It’s sad, tragic even what’s happened to that family, to the remaining brother, but you know you can’t come forward with evidence right?”

d’Artagnan snorted and rose from the beanbag crossing the room to pick up a can of pepsi max. 

“d’Artagnan it’s too dangerous!” 

“I know that!” d’Artagnan said turned round to face Aramis “I ain’t gonna do shit!”, he shrugged his shoulders “So I saw the rich fucker get shot, big deal, people get shot in this shit hole everyday, what’s one more corpse?” 

There was a bitterness to d’Artagnan’s tone and a stand offish stance that told Aramis not to push him unless he wanted a mouthful of verbal abuse coming his way. 

Sighing Aramis crossed the room and kissed d’Artagnan’s cheek “If you want to talk you know where I am mon petit”

“Sure” d’Artagnan murmured looking out of the window he had crawled through the night before, it took a great deal of parkour to scale the wall up the window but d’Artagnan was a natural after five years of running all over the city and always used that way into the loft. 

He knew Aramis was right, he couldn’t go to the police, the bastards were all in the pockets of the various gangs and as soon as he had spoken he’d be lynched for grassing to the cops. 

No, as much as he felt sorry for Athos de la Fare the man was on his own, d’Artagnan wouldn’t be stupid enough to risk speaking out for him.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so scared of heights that my palms were sweating when I wrote what d'Artagnan is doing in this!.

With his head down d’Artagnan walked rapidly through the streets. 

It was rush hour, the road was grid locked with cars, people were hurrying down the streets, standing in groups at bus stops as they waited for their bus to arrive. 

Some spoke to each other, some talked on mobiles, others listened to music, others checked their facebook and twitter pages. 

No one was paying attention to what was around them, no one noticed a skinny young man moving swiftly through them with hands dipping into pockets and bags as he went. 

 

A purse here, a wallet there, an expensive watch which strap had come undone off a wrist, an I-Pad sticking out of a handbag. 

d’Artagnan had his pockets filled by the time he had finished walking the streets. 

Satisfied with his work he sprang up into the air and caught hold of the fire escape ladder at the side of a building. 

Pulling himself up he moved like a monkey, climbing with great speed to the very last rung. 

He then balanced himself against the wall and braced his palms on the roof above his head, taking a deep breath in he put all his strength into his arms and flipped himself up into a handstand on the very edge of the roof!. 

 

He balanced there for a moment then arched his back flipping himself over into the wheel position before righting himself on his feet and walking calmly across the roof top. 

Pulling the watch out of his pocket he examined it and found it was inscribed on the back. 

He couldn’t go to a legit pawn broker then, he’d have to have Porthos go to one of the fences to sell it. 

It was always better to get Porthos to do that, the bastards were so scared of getting a beating from him that they didn’t dare quibble at a price. 

A watch like this would likely have cost a good three or four grand, maybe even more since it had been inscribed. 

Once they sold it on the black market they’d probably only get about a grand or fifteen hundred for it depending on where Porthos went, but that would buy them a new top of the range TV, and maybe a laptop too!.

Popping that back into his pocket he took out the I-Pad, they’d have to get it unlocked of course but maybe they could keep it and use it, if not then that too would be sold. 

He drew the notes and change from the wallet and the purse before discarding them. He had no use for credit or debit cards, he was no forger so he just went with cold hard cash. Of which he had made quite a fair amount this morning.   
Certainly more than enough to go shopping with. 

 

Jumping over onto the next roof top d’Artagnan increased his pace and then jumped ten feet down onto an electric junction box that was nailed into the wall, holding onto that with his hands he swung himself down and dropped another ten feet onto the roof of an out house, then dropped from there down into the street and set off for the nearest super market. 

 

*******************************************************************************************************

 

Milady had stopped off a storage locker she rented to change her clothes. 

Considering where she was heading she could not wear the smart business suit and jacket she had left the house in. 

In the locker she had a dozen wigs in different styles and colours, many different styles of clothing and foot wear.

Several different passports and bank cards in different names. 

A high powered motorbike, and a vast array of weapons from Italian Stilettos to an AK47!.

She had used them all at one time or another, used every identity and weapon to get what she wanted. 

 

Right now her identity was Anne de Bruiel, engaged to Athos de la Fare, perfectly in place to become his wife and soon there after his grieving widow and soul beneficiary to his company and fortune. 

Unlike his brother Athos would not die in a shooting, or like his parents in a car crash. 

He was already well known for drinking too much and not eating properly, illness would not come as a surprise to anyone, and Milady was in no hurry. 

Slow poison would do the job, a heart attack is what the autopsy would find, natural causes as far as anyone would be concerned and then she would be the veritable Queen of an empire that would assist her master in consolidating his position once and for all. 

 

It was too her master that she went now. 

 

Changed into skinny jeans, a simple long sleeved t-shirt, and a leather jacket she put her helmet on her head and set off on her bike. 

 

Her master’s residence was in the worst part of town. A penthouse above a notorious nightclub that was little more than a brothel. 

The club was of course closed at present and Milady was left up to the penthouse by one of his thugs/body guards. 

 

“Milady de Winter, to what do I owe the pleasure?” 

Rochefort, Milady’s master, crime lord, murderer, drug runner, pimp, blackmailer, and aspiring politician who was intent on being elected as mayor or the city with the La Fare Corporations backing once Milady was running things, turned from where he was looking out of his window and gave her a smile. 

“I saw on the news that you did your duty” 

“Then you’ll also have seen that we may have a problem” Milady said taking off her bikers gloves and holding them in her hands 

“Some brat may have seen you kill the younger La Fare?, yes I heard” Rochefort sound going to the wet board and pouring himself a large whiskey with ice, he did not look troubled by this though   
“Did he see you?” 

“Not clearly if that’s what you mean” Milady replied “He would have seen someone dressed in black leather shooting Thomas, nothing more”

“Someone in black leather” Rochefort repeated “Hardly a short list then”

“To say the least” Milady confirmed “Any orders?” 

“Keep the elder La Fare on a tight leash, get him to wed you as soon as you can, the soon you are Madame de la Fare the better” 

Milady nodded “I’ve thought of telling him I am pregnant, if he thinks that there is a child on the way he will want to tie the knot quickly to ensure the infant is legitimate”

“A pity you are not then” Rochefort chuckled “Think you can get yourself pregnant, create an heir for the fortune, an heir you can mould and control?” 

“Perhaps” Milady mused “I can certainly try”

“Then do it” Rochefort barked “And if Athos is no good, get a child elsewhere, but fill your womb, as Mother to the La Fare heir no one will challenge your right to run the company and control the fortune”.

 

*********************************************************************************************************

 

D’Artagnan bought bread, milk, cereal, butter, peanut butter, chocolate spread, pasta, rice, ready made sauces, bags of crisps, packs of biscuits, family size bars of chocolate, bottles of fizzy drink, sugar, tea bags, and coffee from the supermarket before heading to an Off licence that didn’t check for ID where he bought beer, vodka, and whiskey. 

As the owner rang up the sale d’Artagnan watched the TV on the counter where the appeal by Athos was being replayed. 

“Poor bastard” the shop owner grunted “Lost ‘is parents now ‘is brother, life’s a real bitch ain’t it?” 

“Yeah it is” d’Artagnan murmured handing over the last of the money to pay for the booze 

“Betcha there’ll be tons of lying fuckers callin’ to say they saw ‘im getting’ shot” 

“Probably” d’Artagnan said taking the cans and bottles from the counter and making a quick exit from the shop. 

 

He walked down the street as fast as he could with his arms weighed down by shopping bags. 

He couldn’t go to the Police, he couldn’t risk being identified, he wouldn’t last a day if that happened!. 

But he also couldn’t ignore the plea from Athos. 

His loss struck too close to home for d’Artagnan, he had to help Athos as much as he could, had to tell him what he knew. 

But he would have to do so without anyone else knowing, and let Athos know that he could and would never be able to testify for him.


	5. Chapter 5

La Fare Manor 

 

It was dark in his office when Athos entered the room, a stack of business papers to go through in the morning tucked under his right arm and a whiskey on the rocks in a tumbler in his left hand. 

A little unsteadily he made his way to his desk sliding the papers down onto it and reached for the lamp 

“Don’t turn it on please”.

 

The unexpected voice made Athos freeze, his fingers tightened about his tumbler and the ice cubes clicked against the glass as his hand shook. 

“Who are you, what do you want?” he asked in as steady a tone of voice as he could manage

Out of the dark shadows a figure rose from a crouching position near the window and walked across the room, stopping before the fire place where the embers still glowed a bright amber and radiated a little heat. 

“I’m the one you’ve been looking for” the figure said “The one who called the police”

Athos gasped sharply, he staggered back and the back of his knees collided with his desk chair making him sit abruptly with a jolt spilling whiskey over his hand

“You, you saw Thomas” he whispered lifting the glass to his lips and downing the remaining whiskey in a single swallow that burned his throat all the way down to his stomach 

“I did” the figure, a boy Athos guessed only just out of puberty on the cusp of adulthood judging by the pitch of his voice  
“I was in the alley, just jacked some food and cash and was hiding out on a fire escape balcony when your brother came down the alley talking on the phone”

“Who was he talking to?” Athos asked 

“You” the boy said “I guess he was leaving a message on your answer phone and I didn’t hear all of what he was saying but it sounded pretty important”

Athos frowned, there had been no message from Thomas on either his mobile or the house phone, his automatic response to this would be to think that the boy was lying, but something he could not explain told him that he was not. 

“It was a professional hit, direct shot right to head only a practised killer could do that in such poor light”

Athos swallowed hard and wished he had another whiskey to drink 

“They took the file he had with him and checked him over for anything else before taking off on a motorbike” 

“File?” Athos asked 

“Yeah, a thick one, full of stuff, don’t know what was in it though”

“And the um, the killer?” 

“I couldn’t see a face, it was too dark, but I could make out the body shape clearly enough, it was a woman not a man who killed your brother”.

 

Athos gaped at the boy in complete shock hardly able to believe his ears, he knew it was sexist but he could much easier believe a man had been the killer than a woman 

“You’re sure?” he asked

“I am” the boy said “Definitely a woman, about five six, dressed all in black leather with a black cap covered her hair, slim but not skinny”

Athos rolled his lips and took a shuddering breath 

“Thank you for coming forward with this, I’ll um call detective Treville and…”

“No!” the boy said sharply “This is as far as I can go for you, I can’t talk to the cops, I can’t do anything else they’ll kill me if I do”

“I can protect you, the police can protect you!” Athos said rising to his feet

The boy scoffed derisively “Yeah cause you and the cops did so well for your brother right?” 

Athos felt the blow from that comment like a punch to the gut, it left him unable to speak and the boy walked towards the window clearly done with this conversation. 

“Please wait!” Athos called after him 

The boy paused and turned his head slightly over his shoulder, the light from the window showed his profile, all striking lean lines and sharp edges from a lack of nutrition.

“I need you to tell this to the police, I need you to testify in court”

“I can’t”

“We can protect you, I’ll get you off the streets, I get you a new home and new life, no one will know who you are or what you did!”

The boy made a laughing sound and turned fully back to Athos 

“Oh great, I get dumped in some shitty bedsit in a new city away from any of my friends and be unable to ever see them again because if I do I’ll get nailed by the shit bag jackasses who run the fucking city” 

“Then I’ll protect your identity from becoming public, only myself, Treville, and the prosecuting attorney will know who would are”

“That’s three people too many, three who could grass me up and then I’ll be flayed for bein’ a grass myself!”

“Please!” Athos cried coming round from the desk desperation in his voice “I am begging you to help me, I will pay you whatever you want, name your price and it’s yours I swear!”

“I don’t want your money” the boy said shaking his head “Money don’t stop bullets or knives”

Breathing heavily Athos got down onto his knees and clasped his hands together as if he were praying

“What are you…, oh fuck sake get up!” the boy cried 

“I said I will beg you” Athos said “And I am begging you now, please help me get justice for my brother!”

The boy sighed and walked back to Athos and grabbed his shoulders “Get up!” he grunted trying to lift Athos but the older man was a hell of a lot heavier than he was and while he was very fit d’Artagnan did not have a lot in the way of muscle and couldn’t budge Athos from the floor, “C’mon this is stupid!”

“Not if it gets you to help me” Athos said suddenly grabbing the boys hands 

“Let go!” the boy whispered trying to pull back 

“I just want your help!” 

“Let me go now I don’t want to hurt you!”

“Please!” Athos cried keeping tight hold about the boy’s too thin wrists, then suddenly light flooded the room as the door was opened and the switch on the wall was clicked turning on the main light.

“Athos is everything…”, Anne stopped dead in the tracks at the sight of Athos on the floor holding the wrists of a street boy “What the hell…?”

“Anne I can explain..!” Athos began but a sudden and brutal kick to his stomach had him falling to the ground groaning in agony, the boy yanked his hands free and bolted to the window throwing it open and leaped through it into the gardens, “Wait!” Athos wheezed struggling to get to his feet to go after the boy 

“God Athos was he a thief was he trying to rob us?” Anne asked hurrying to him and putting her arms under his shoulders helping to lift him up 

“No he wasn’t” Athos grunted clutching his aching stomach , he pulled away from Anne and staggered to the window, he stuck his head outside and looked out into the garden in a desperate search for the boy, but of course there was no sign of him now

“Damn it!” Athos snarled punching the frame making his knuckles crack 

“Hey stop it!” Anne cried running to him and took his hand to check it over 

“He was the one Anne!” Athos cried “He was the boy who saw Thomas get killed!”

“What?”

Anne’s eyes widened and her mouth fell open in shock, “He’s lying!” she said “He came here to lie to you, to get a pay off..”

“He refused money Anne” Athos said raking a hand through his hair “He asked for nothing, he wasn’t lying, he was…scared”

With his back turned to her Athos did not see Anne clenching her jaw and fists, he sagged against the wall dropping his head forward and sighed deeply 

“How are we ever going to find him again?”

“Well we could…”

“Treville!” Athos said turning back round to Anne “We saw the boy, we can describe him, Treville can put a search out for him!”.

 

Inwardly Anne smirked at Athos’s naivety, letting the police know who the boy was or what he looked like guaranteed his death, most of the cops were owned by one gang or another and with the boy being a snitch he’d been strung up in a matter of days. 

Such an outcome would be helpful for her, if the brat was done away with by someone else then it would save her a job, however she wouldn’t rely on that, she’d still make sure that the boy was eliminated, and like Athos said, now they knew what he looked like which would make the finding of him all the easier. 

Schooling her features into an encouraging but sympathetic expression Anne gently wrapped her arms about Athos’s neck and pulled him close to her   
“We’ll go to Treville first thing in the morning” she said to him “It’s too late now, we should go to bed and get some rest first”

“But the sooner….”, Athos was silenced by Anne pressing her lips over his, skilfully she pressed her groin into his giving the exact amount of friction necessary to get him in the mood 

“Come on babe” she purred into his ear “Lets go to bed, this can wait till morning”

Athos was like putty in her hands giving into his will and allowing her to take him to bed, pausing only just long enough to close the window before they went upstairs and fell into their bed. 

 

Hours later, when he had fallen asleep and was snoring quietly into his pillow Anne slipped out from Athos’s embrace and took her mobile phone from the dressing table padding out into hall and called Rochefort.

“What?”

“I know what the boy who saw me looks like” she said keeping her voice low so she wouldn’t wake Athos, “He’s between seventeen and twenty, about six feet tall, black haired, olive skinned, skinny, browned eyed, and has a small scar on his cheek probably from an old knife wound”  
“Excellent” Rochefort purred, “I’ll get the word put out. Sit tight, our goal is getting closer with each passing day and this boy will be dealt with very soon”.


	6. Chapter 6

As Aramis was out looking for business Porthos was also out with him keeping a watch from the shadows just in case someone decided to try something Aramis didn’t want. 

This meant that d’Artagnan was free to slip from the loft without anyone asking where he was going or why, and since both would certainly nail him to the floor to keep him from doing what he felt he must. 

 

He waited until it was late before he ventured out into the night keeping to the roof tops and the shadows as he went, making his way through the streets to the edge of the city and out to the La Fare estate. 

 

The Manor had large walls surrounding the estate and a metal gate on the drive that led up to the house. 

Running at top speed d’Artagnan had no difficulty leaping up onto the walls and then jumping down the other side where he landed like a cat, crouched down and low in the darkness. 

 

His sharp eyes searched out for a sign of a security guard but it appeared that there were no such persons on the estate, in fact there were not even security lights save for the small lights on either side of the drive illuminating the road for the driver. 

 

Confident d’Artagnan ran across the lawn pausing only briefly besides sculpted bushes before he ran for the house. 

Once he reached the house he flattened himself against the walls walking cautiously about the house.   
He ducked down beneath the windows listening out for voices before he stood up and looked through the dark glass into the house. 

In the dark he could not make out much beyond shapes and shadows, but he could see a well decorated room filled with furniture and ornaments that were no doubt worth a fortune. 

 

He made his way round the house peeking through windows and checking the frames for one that would be easy to force open. 

While he was an able thief and pick pocket he was no lock pick and had little experience of house breaking, that was more Porthos’s area, he would have known how to pick the locks with ease but not d’Artagnan, he would have to find an easy way into the house or give this up as a bad job. 

 

Of course if he couldn’t find a way through the ground floor windows there were always the first and second floor windows to try, and with the old stone work and the creeping vines on the walls they would be easy to climb. 

 

 

The light was on in one of the rooms and d’Artagnan pressed himself flush against the wall with his heart pounding in his chest before he looked into the window. 

A handsome woman was sat in a comfortable chair reading something on a tablet, she had a glass of wine on the small table besides her which she lifted with her free hand and sipped from before replacing it once more. 

d’Artagnan would have ducked straight down beneath the window had it not been for Athos himself rising from a chair that was out of his sight until the man had crossed the room. 

 

Somehow seeing Athos in the flesh rather than on the TV was more intimate and d’Artagnan found himself frozen on the spot staring at him. 

He was a handsome man, rugged and a little weathered but that seemed to give his face character rather than derive from his appearance.

A heavy melancholia hung over him, making his eyes shadowed and sad, his mouth drawn down and his shoulders slumped as if he were carrying a heavy weight upon them. 

Strangely d’Artagnan found himself wanting to run his hands over those shoulders, wanting rub the tension out of them as he had seen Aramis do with Porthos. 

His fingers itched to trace the lines on the older mans forehead and sooth them until his brow was relaxed. 

His lips burned with an unbidden desire to press against the those lips wondering what it would be like to feel the brush of Athos’s beard against his skin. 

 

d’Artagnan might live with a prostitute but he knew next to nothing of fornication. 

He had never kissed anyone, and had certainly not done anything more intimate with anyone. 

Having lived on the streets he had seen enough sex both lustful and violent to want to keep himself to himself in that regard. 

He had never had a desire for anyone at all, had never craved the touch of another on his flesh or wanted to touch another’s flesh and to now have such unexpected feelings rising inside him were unsettling to say the least. 

 

*****************************************************************************************************

 

It was into the Study that d’Artagnan gained entry. 

The windows were old and the wood had swollen and become warped making it easy for him to put his knife between the frames and force the window open and climb inside. 

He closed the window just too and looked about the study in the dim light from the fire burning low in the grate. 

The room was both comfortable and practical. 

The desk was old, an antique most likely, all dark heavy wood polished up to shine while still bearing the lines of age clearly in it’s flesh. 

The chair behind the desk however was modern and very comfortable, well cushioned with a firm back rest to make for good support after long hours sitting in it. 

There was a laptop on the table but also pens and paper to write with. There was even a quill and ink pot though they were just for display. 

The shelves in the walls were stocked with books, both fiction and non fiction, and pictures sat on the shelves and the desks but it was too dark for d’Artagnan to see them properly. 

 

The opening of the door had him fleeing back towards the window and he waited with baited breath as Athos entered the room and made his way to the desk. 

“Don’t turn it on please” he said as Athos fumbled for the light  
“Who are you, what do you want?” Athos asked, his voice was low, husky and sounded just ever so slightly slurred, probably from too much drink, 

Slowly d’Artagnan crept forward from the shadows, enough so Athos could see him, though not clearly enough to identify him.

“I am the one who you have been looking for” d’Artagnan whispered “I am the one who called the Police”.

 

*********************************************************************************************************

 

D’Artagnan fled from the La Fare estate as if the hounds of hell were chasing after him.

His meeting with Athos had gone rapidly down hill, the older man not seeming to understand why d’Artagnan could never do anymore for him than he already had done. 

He seemed to think that all it would take was a promise of protection and some money to make d’Artagnan testify for him, to speak with the police!. 

He was either incredibly naïve or ignorant if he thought that the police could be remotely trusted!. 

The promise of money did nothing to sway d’Artagnan either. While it would be nice to live somewhere with central heating and air conditioning d’Artagnan would never leave Aramis and Porthos and if he were to take Athos’s “Protection” then he would have to part with them forever, something he would never do. 

d’Artagnan had intended to just leave, had gone to the window but Athos had grabbed hold of him, kneeling before him, begging him and refusing to let him leave!.

 

The pleading was like a knife to d’Artagnan’s heart which he had thought was as hard as nails and it did strike a cord within him making him want to weaken his resolve, but he could not, he knew the risk was far to great to even contemplate that. 

Athos’s hands on him were as just as confusing, they made his skin burn but not unpleasantly so, they made him want to feel them more, to have them over more of his skin. 

 

He was struggling to deal with these conflicting feelings of fear, desire, and sympathy when the main light in the room was turned on and the woman he had seen reading came in. 

d’Artagnan had reacted on pure instinct, he had kicked Athos in the stomach and fled as fast as he could, running all the way back to the city and the loft where he fell to his knees panting, shaking, and sobbing. 

Never had he been so confused, so troubled before in his life. 

These feelings he was having were so unknown to him, so frightening and confusing that he had no idea what to do with them or even what he was meant to do. 

More than that he had no idea what he was going to about Athos and the woman who had seen him. 

He didn’t think that they had seen his face but he could not be sure of that and he was terrified of the fact that they might have done and what it could mean for him. 

 

Hours later when Aramis and Porthos returned they found him still slumped beneath the window shaking with tears running slowly down his cheeks. 

“Oh Querida what is it?” Aramis cried running to him and dropping down besides him 

“What’s happened Lad?” Porthos asked crouching in front of d’Artagnan, his voice was soft but his fists were clenched tight ready to go and pound whoever it was that had upset d’Artagnan 

“d’Art?” Aramis asked stroking d’Artagnan’s hair “Please, you can tell us anything”.

 

Slowly d’Artagnan lifted his head and looked at his friends, his brothers by all but blood and felt fresh tears filling his eyes in shame for the danger he may have brought upon them,  
“I’m sorry!” he whispered his face crumbling “I’m so sorry”, he bowed his head breaking into fresh sobs that shook him painfully even as Aramis and Porthos tried to comfort him.


	7. Chapter 7

Porthos’s fist connected with the wall making d’Artagnan and Aramis flinch 

“How could you?” Porthos demanded turning on d’Artagnan “How could you be so bloody stupid!?” he roared making the boy pale and duck his head in shame 

“Porthos!” Aramis chided frowning at his lover 

“No Mis he knows better than this!” Porthos snapped “He knows that he can’t grass, he knows what happens to snitches, what’ll now happen to him and probably the both of us!”

“No!” d’Artagnan yelled looking up with a tear streaked pale face “I won’t let anything happen to you two, it’s me they’ll want not you”

“You know it ain’t that simple” Porthos sneered “The fuckers’ll think we’re as guilty as you are and fuck us up right along with you”

“No they won’t!” d’Artagnan shouted jumping to his feet “They won’t because I won’t be with you!”, he spun on his heel and stormed to his side of the loft grabbing his satchel and began to stuff his meagre belongings into it.

 

“Oh a fat lot of help you are!” Aramis yelled at Porthos getting his feet 

“What?” Porthos cried “I’m not sayin’ nothin’ that ain’t bloody true!”

“And d’Art doesn’t need to be reminded of that you damn fool!” Aramis shouted at him “He needs our support not our anger right now, you seem to forget he’s not much more than a child, a child who saw his own Father murdered in front of him!”. 

 

Cursing under his breath in Spanish Aramis whirled round and headed after d’Artagnan finding him in the process of trying to close his satchel with hands that were shaking too much to keep hold of the clasps. 

“d’Art Querida what are you doing?” he sighed crossing the small room and placing a gentle hand on d’Artagnan’s shoulder 

“Leaving” d’Artagnan stated flinching out of the touch 

“To go where and do what?” Aramis asked, he took the satchel from d’Artagnan’s shaking hands and set it on the floor and then placed his hands on d’Artagnan’s slim shoulders “You will be safer here with us, your home is here with us”

“And I’ve brought danger here!” d’Artagnan said looking ashamed of himself “I don’t care what happens to me, but I could never stomach something happening to Port or you, you’re my only family, my brothers, I love you both more than anything in the world!”

“As we do you” Aramis said cupping d’Artagnan’s face and smiling gently “Do you honestly think Porthos and I will let you just disappear without a fight?” 

“He’s more of a fool than me if he does!” Porthos grunted from the curtained doorway, he shrugged his broad shoulders as d’Artagnan and Aramis looked his way   
“I’m worried lad, for you” he said “That’s why I shouted”, had his skin been paler he’d probably have been blushing, as it was he looked down at his feet which he shifted uncomfortably “I ain’t got Mis’s way with words, I ain’t smart or poetic like ‘im, the way I show me feelin’s is to yell or use me fists or to fuck, but it don’t mean I don’t feel and it certainly don’t mean I don’t want you ‘ere or that I’ll let you walk out of ‘ere!”

d’Artagnan held his composure and ground for all of five seconds, then he dissolved into tears and ran into Porthos’s arms burying his face in his broad chest 

“Not poetic or good with words my arse!” Aramis snorted grinning at them 

Porthos grinned at him as he stroked d’Artagnan’s hair with one hand and rubbed his back with the other.

 

It took a good ten minutes for d’Artagnan to calm down enough to stop crying and lift his face from Porthos’s chest, he went to wipe his nose on his sleeve but Aramis tossed him a pack of tissues to use instead and he used one to wipe his face and another to blow his nose.

“What are we going to do?” he asked shakily “We have to do something don’t we?” 

“Aye we do” Porthos said ruffling d’Artagnan’s hair “And the first thing we’re gonna do is change your appearance kid”

“Wha…”, d’Artagnan looked from Porthos to Aramis and back 

“Well you said that you don’t think they saw your face which is good” Porthos said “The only description they have is a skinny boy with long dark hair, and there are dozens of skinny dark haired boys in the city, so we change you from being dark haired and give it a cut to shorten it”

d’Artagnan stepped back away from Porthos and touched his hair, he hadn’t cut it in years, it had grown to hang to his shoulders, he had no idea what he’d look like if he cut it short let alone changed the colour. 

“You know I think he could stand to go for something really dramatic” Aramis said coming over to run his hands through d’Artagnan’s hair and smiled “Leave it to me, I’ll give him a make over like you’d never believe!”.

 

*****************************************************************************************************

 

“Get off!” d’Artagnan complained several hours later as Aramis kept his head tipped back and shaved a careful slit into his left eyebrow followed by a second so it would match the ones he’d done on the right. 

“Hold still or I’ll cut you!” he scolded carefully styling the cut and then blew on d’Artagnan’s face to remove the excess hair   
“Damn I should have been an artist!” he said complimenting his work 

“Bet I look bloody ridiculous!” d’Artagnan grumbled 

“You don’t lad, you look like a punk rock throw back!” Porthos declared with a broad grin “Damn fine work love” he praised Aramis who bowed dramatically 

Sighing and shaking his head d’Artagnan went to the single mirror they had in loft to look at his reflection and got quite the shock when he did so. 

 

Indeed he looked like Porthos had said, a punk rock throw back, a tough biker boy complete with the slate grey leather biker jacket that Porthos had got for him from a fence he knew in the city along with skinny dark blue jeans, and skinny charcoal grey jeans to replace his brown leather jacket and present jeans which Porthos had taken and dumped to further get rid of d’Artagnan’s appearance. 

His T-Shirts and Long Sleeved shirts they left the same, since he’d wear them beneath his leather jacket they didn’t matter. 

His hair Aramis had quite skilfully cropped short and spiked it up with a little gel, and died his dark locks bleach blonde!. 

d’Artagnan had complained all the way through the process, hating the smell of the die, and the fact it made his scalp sting, he’d dreaded what the result would be, had envisioned himself with some God awful yellow crew cut that made his skin sallow. 

However Aramis apparently did have a talent, he had cut his hair in such a style that it suited d’Artagnan’s sharp features, and the pale white blonde looked dramatic enough to not clash with his skin tone.   
The slits in his eyebrows just added to the look, all that was needed was the final touch, the painful part that Porthos would be doing himself. 

 

As well as fighting, lock picking, and thieving Porthos had learned how to tattoo and body pierce while on the streets as a kid, and he had a kit with him and was prepared to give d’Artagnan ear piercing, eyebrow, and lip piercings to complete his bad boy look. 

 

“I’ve got the antiseptic, and an analgesic” he said as d’Artagnan came back into the main room looking rather nervous “Your mouth will hurt the worst, we’ll get that done first and then do your eye and ear”

“Great” d’Artagnan murmured sitting down on a bean bag besides the window “We got any Vodka left?” he asked looking to Aramis who grinned and fetched the bottle for him to take a drink straight from the bottle 

“Alright” Porthos said handing over the analgesic, “Swill this round your gob and hold it until your mouth is numb then spit it out and rinse with the antiseptic”,

Taking a deep breath d’Artagnan did as instructed and rose from the bag to spit out the window once he was done. 

Sitting back down he gripped the bean bag tight in his fists and closed his eyes as Porthos took his bottom lip between the hollow clamp and with a swift skilful jab he thrust the needle through the flesh making d’Artagnan yelp a little and grip the bag tighter as the needle was removed and a silver ring was pushed through the new hole.

“All done” Porthos said 

“Hmm, not bad” Aramis said eyeing the piercing “How’s it feel lad?” 

“Bloody sore!” d’Artagnan complained nudging the piercing with his tongue gingerly and tasted a little blood 

“Aye you’ll have a fat lip for a few days before it settles” Porthos said cheerfully as he washed the needle in antiseptic and prepared to the eyebrow piercing “Left or right?” he asked d’Artagnan who shrugged 

“Left then” Porthos said “And we’ll do the right earlobe”

“Great” d’Artagnan murmured snatching up the vodka and downing another mouthful, taking care not to dribble with his mouth numbed. 

 

The eyebrow piercing and the ear piercing were not as painful as the lips piercing and within a few minutes it was all done and d’Artagnan was back before the mirror checking out the look.

“I can do yer a tattoo an all if yer want?” Porthos offered “I think you’d look wicked with a barbed wire tat about your throat!”

“Umm I think that’ll do Port” Aramis interjected “He’s had enough body work done today, lets leave him with some skin intact!” 

“If you insist!” Porthos chuckled “Though if you fancy it lad…?”

d’Artagnan grinned and winced as it pulled on his lip

“I’ll keep that in mind!”, he looked back to the mirror “d’you think this’ll be enough though?” he asked frowning at his reflection 

“I should think so” Aramis said tilting his head to admire his and Porthos’s handiwork, “I wouldn’t recognize you if I hadn’t done it myself!”

“Aye, quite the little master of disguise!” Porthos chuckled getting another grin from d’Artagnan “Now, how’s about we go get some ice cream?” he suggested “It’ll soothe yer gob and we ain’t ‘ad sundaes in ages!”

Unsurprisingly both d’Artagnan and Aramis were eager to agree and the three of them set off to the Ben and Jerry’s shop to go and indulge in their favourite frozen treats.

 

******************************************************************************************************** 

 

La Fare Manor 

 

Athos sighed and turned the page of mug shots set before him on his office desk. 

Treville had come to the manor promptly when called, and had brought with him mug shot books for Athos and Anne to go through to see if they could find someone familiar in there. 

So far the first two books had provided them with nothing that looked remotely like the boy they had seen in the study and Athos was rapidly running out of patience. 

Then as he turned over the page he stopped as a familiar picture greeted his eyes

“Him” he said with absolute certainty as his eyes studied the high cheek bones, sharp jaw, dark brown eyes, and black hair looking out at him from the page, he’d only glimpsed the boy for a moment but he knew it was him. 

“Charles d’Artagnan” Treville said frowning down at the page “Arrested twice, once for shop lifted, once for pick pocketing, street thief” he said with a wry smile “Excellent work, now we know who we’re looking for it’ll make finding him much easier”

Yes, Milady thought to herself discreetly texting the name to Rochefort on her mobile It most certainly will.


	8. Chapter 8

With both the police and Rochefort’s men looking for him d’Artagnan was very much a hunted man.   
However these people were looking for a dark haired boy not a platinum blonde with multiple piercings so that made their job of searching for him far more difficult and d’Artagnan was well use to staying in the shadows and keeping out of sight. 

To find him crouched on the windowsill three stories up watching the streets was not unusual and after being on the streets for so many years he knew how important it was to gather intel and the best way to do that was to be unseen and just listen. 

 

Hanging off the side of a wall with his left hand and left foot hooked through a drain pipe d’Artagnan watched as a couple of cops pulled a boy who could have been his double before his make over, to the corner and press him against the wall. 

“Wha’ssup man!” the boy protested only to get a back hand across the cheek from one of the donut brigade

“Fuck man I ain’t done nothin’ I already paid my protection money to Rochefort I swear!”

Rochefort? D’Artagnan had heard that name before but hadn’t paid much attention to it, he was some kind of politician as far as d’Artagnan knew, that he was also a criminal didn’t surprise the boy in the least. 

“This ain’t about protection money kid it’s about you grassin on the La Fare hit!” one of the cops snarled 

“What?” the boy looked confused and scared “I don’t know nothin’ about that, I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about!”

“Drop the act d’Artagnan…”

“Whoa whoa I ain’t d’Artagnan, fuck man I know ‘im but I ain’t ‘im!” the boy cried “My names Tony Rossco not d’Artagnan!”

The cops paused one narrowing his eyes at the boy while the other scratched his head stupidly 

“You know ‘im whelp?” the first growled 

“Sure, well not as a friend but I know ‘im from around y’know?” Tony babbled “He’s a thief, appears and disappears, kinda got talent for it”

Tony’s face was struck again by the first cop who apparently wasn’t happy with the answer 

“Talk sense kid or pay the price!” the Cop snarled 

“Think I’ll pay it for him!” d’Artagnan snapped, he threw himself off the building landing on the hood of the cop car like a cat, flipped himself over kicking the second and stupider cop in the face and drove his elbow and fist in the face of the first cop as he landed on his feet on the ground.

“Run kid” he said to Tony who wasted no time in doing exactly what he said and tore off down the street as fast as his legs would take him!

“Now what is it with you Pigs?” d’Artagnan asked shifting his weight onto his right foot and doing a spin kick on the stupider cop who was trying to get back to his feet, “You say you wanna uphold the law and then you go and get bent and work for the gangs, why not just join the fucking gangs to begin with you twats?”

The first Cop was back on his feet and tried to throw a punch only to have his fist caught by d’Artagnan and twisted so hard behind his back it was broken in two places, he hardly had the chance to scream before d’Artagnan kicked him in the ribs sending him face first into the ground!

“And the next time you start picking on kids remember this!” d’Artagnan spat, he jumped back up onto the cop car and then threw himself at the building catching the drain pipe and climbed the wall to the roof, flipped himself up into a handstand then a front roll and ran across the roof, jumped over to the next building grabbing onto the chimney and slid down it to the arched tiled roof which he slid down to the first window and from there jumped onto a lamp post and slid down it like a fire mans pole to the street. 

 

So the cops were looking for him, not unexpected and with his new appearance they wouldn’t find him easily, plus he was use to playing tag with the pigs, lazy bunch of fuckwits wouldn’t find a hooker in a whore house at the best of times so d’Artagnan was not really bothered by this, it was the chance that the street gangs were looking for him that was the real issue, those bastards could be trouble which was what he hoped to avoid. 

 

 

*******************************************************************************************************

 

Aramis turned his face away from the over weight slob of a business man who was fucking him against the wall in the alley they’d gone into. 

“God your tight” the oaf panted “And so pretty, like a girl but better!” 

“Whatever!” Aramis muttered rolling his eyes, these old perverts were all the same, said he was pretty enough to be a girl, said he was tight and so good, said they wished their wives were as perfect as him. 

Truth was they were gay but too pathetic to come out of the closet and so got married, had kids, and fucked boys in secret on the streets like this. 

At least the old bastard had paid the fifty without trying to haggle, some did try but one growl from Porthos was enough to change their mind and make them cough up or piss off. 

 

Aramis hated the fast that Porthos was watching this, was having to see the man he loved being fucked by someone else even though they both knew it meant completely nothing to Aramis, but they needed the money and Porthos would rather keep a watch over Aramis than leave him alone, at least this way he could make sure that Aramis was safe and non of the Pimps tried anything on him. 

The current pervert grunted and thrust and finally came inside him and leaned over Aramis panting heavily.

“You were great” he breathed 

“Yeah I always am not get the fuck off me!” Aramis snarled shoving him away and pulling his jeans back up fastening them as he walked away to join Porthos who handed him a wet wipe to wash his hands with. 

“Thank you” Aramis said taking pleasure in wiping the oaf from his hands, face and neck, he needed a full wash of course but that would have to wait until later. 

“Wanna head home?” Porthos asked hopefully, Aramis had already given a couple of hand jobs making them a good seventy bucks

“Maybe one more punter than call it?” Aramis replied 

Porthos sighed by nodded and grit his teeth preparing himself for seeing Aramis abused by yet another pervert. 

 

As they walked down the back street a fellow hooker called out to Aramis adjusting her corset and fluffing her hair as she sauntered down the street in six inch platform heels 

“Hey Mis” she greeted blowing him a kiss “Porthos”

“Hey Emma business good?” Aramis asked 

“Not so bad” She said with a grin “Last punter was pretty hot actually, hear your boy is too”

“What?” Aramis asked confused 

“This little brat you have living with you, word is he’s on Rochefort’s shit list”

“Rochefort?” 

“What does he have to do with anything?” Porthos asked 

Emma shrugged “Dunno but I heard a couple of enforcers talking, apparently there’s a bounty on the boy’s head cuz he snitched to the pigs about something”

“No he didn’t!” Aramis immediately erupted but Porthos grabbed his arm pulling him away 

“What are you doing?” Aramis protested as he was hurried down the street   
“Getting us home to the kid” Porthos replied “If there’s a bounty on ‘im then the shits really hit the fan”

“I know but he…”, Aramis paused lowering his voice “No one knows what he looks like now”

“No” Porthos agreed “But they know his name and know he lives with us, it’ll only take one wanker with more than half a brain to find him and finish him”

Aramis paled at Porthos’s words and closed his mouth pressing his lips together in a thin line allowing Porthos to hurry him along.

 

*******************************************************************************************************

 

Milady was in heaven 

Well actually she was in a bridal store trying on the most beautiful wedding gowns they had in stock. 

Everything she was going for had a price tag of five thousand upwards, had diamanté and gold thread decorated bodices, yards of the finest silks and satins money could buy, antique lace and fresh water pearls. 

“You look beautiful in this Madam” the assistant said as Milady stood before the huge mirror admiring her reflection in the glass. 

She wore a strapless corset style gown, the bodice swooping down over her hips where it finally meet the broad silk skirts that flared out making her nipped in waist look smaller still, and had a train that stretched behind her for a good two foot. 

“I think this is the one” Milady said admiring the pearls and crystals on the bodice and the fine lace that peaked playfully over her breasts

“It has a beautiful veil to go with it too” the assistant said taking the three feet long veil from the box and carefully placing it over Milady’s head, “The tiara comes with the veil for an extra three hundred!, it is studded with pearls and crystals to match the bodice”

“Yes” Milady agreed “It’s perfect”, she smiled to the assistant “I’ll take it”

The assistants eyes lit up at the commission coming her way 

“That will be nine thousand and three hundred dollars!”

Milady shrugged “Send the bill to La Fare industries, I am marrying Athos after all”.

 

Once the assistant had unlaced the bodice for her she went back into the changing room and changed back into her streets clothes and sent Athos a text message about finding her wedding dress at last and that now They HAD to set a date!.

“We do under wear too, and negligees” the assistant suggested clearly hoping for yet more commission “If you would care to take a look, maybe something special for the honeymoon?” 

“Certainly” Milady agreed frowning as her phone buzzed with a message, not from Athos but Rochefort

“We’re closing in on the kid, we know who he lives with, it’s only a matter of time now”

The smile returned to her face instantly 

“Yes” she said “I’ll need underwear for the gown and something sexy for the wedding night and honeymoon”

The assistants eyes lit up “Right this way Madam and we’ll show you our finest range”.

 

******************************************************************************************************* 

 

Athos sighed at the message Anne sent him. 

He knew he should feel happy, knew she was right, they should set a date for the wedding, should plan the honeymoon, should look to the future rather than the past. 

But since Thomas, since meeting that boy d’Artagnan, since all this craziness began he just couldn’t seem to muster the same level of enthusiasm that he’d had for the wedding before. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t love Anne or that he didn’t want to marry her, at least he didn’t think that he was changing his mind on that, it was just…, he was tired, so tired, and so confused. 

So much had happened right now, so much pain and loss that it was exhausting him, he simply didn’t have enough energy left to put into wedding plans. 

Would Anne understand if he told her he wanted to wait a few months? 

Somehow he doubted it

Sighing Athos got to his feet and went to get another drink, maybe he should just leave all the arrangements to Anne, she was better at this sort of thing anyway, and then she’d be happy and he could…, Athos slumped and shook his head having absolutely no idea what he would do at all.


	9. Chapter 9

D’Artagnan was at the loft when Porthos and Aramis arrived back both breathless from practically running all the way. 

“What’s going on?” d’Artagnan asked jumping off the bean bag and straightening up 

“You’re marked kid we’ve gotta get the fuck outta here now!” Porthos said going and sticking his head out of the window to check for anyone who might be lurking around 

“C’mon pack your shit” he ordered as he turned around “We need to go now”

“But…the makeover?” d’Artagnan stammered confused “Why..”

“They know your name” Aramis explained throwing clothes into a bag 

“Yeah I know I found some dick head pigs hassling a kid they thought was me, obviously not me and no one knows what I look now…”

“They know who you are and who you hang with!” Porthos yelled, he wasn’t truly angry so much as he was stressed and very frightened, not too much for himself but for d’Artagnan and Aramis. 

“It won’t be long before these fuckwits come calling and when that happens we are completely screwed”.

 

d’Artagnan took a shuddering breath inwards and visibly hunched into himself with his skin paling and eyes becoming shadowed   
“I’m sorry” he whispered 

“We don’t have time for worry or guilt kid” Porthos said placing large hands on his shoulders and made d’Artagnan meet his eyes “Shit ‘appens we can’t do nothin’ ‘bout it but deal and we gonna do that together, so go and grab what you don’t wanna leave behind and lets get the fuck outta here”

Rolling his lips d’Artagnan nodded his head, he wasn’t truly feeling better, nor was he going to forgive himself anytime soon but he would do as Porthos said. 

 

He had just made a couple of steps towards his corner of the loft when Aramis called out from his and Porthos’s corner halting his progress

“Guys you best come in here!”.

 

Moving almost in unison d’Artagnan and Porthos were with Aramis in seconds and looking out the small window down into the alley where several rough looking characters had gathered. 

Even without the guns and knives it was clear they were hard gang members, the kind that shot first and worried about what body part they hit later!

“Shit!” Porthos whispered under his breath 

“We’re too late” Aramis breathed his voice high pitched and strained with fear “They’ll kill us all”

“No!” d’Artagnan exclaimed, “If I go to them, turn myself over then they might leave you two alone!”

“Oh hell no!” Porthos declared “You ain’t goin’ out there ‘cept over my dead body!”

“We could make a run for it!” Aramis cried desperately “Leave everything and just run!”

“Run where?” d’Artagnan cried almost on the verge of hysteria, what had he done, why had he gone to Athos? He should have known better, Christ he did know better than…, and just like that, a thought reached his mind. 

Athos had offered him money, protection if he agreed to testify, while he knew it was a long shot, to say the least, he might have a chance at brokering a deal with the Billionaire and getting Aramis and Porthos protected too. 

“C’mon,” Porthos said grabbing both Aramis and d’Artagnan by the upper arms and ushered them to the common area “We’ll use your escape route d’Art, stupid fuckers out there will use the front door, we’ll be gone before they realize that we’ve gone”

“So long as we don’t break our necks!” Aramis murmured looking more than a little sick at the rope d’Artagnan used to climb in and out of the window

“You won’t” d’Artagnan assured him “And I think I have an idea of where we can go”, he let out a yelp and all of them flinched as there came a huge banging on the door no doubt being battered by a sledgehammer or something of the like 

“Where?” Porthos asked checking that their escape route was unguarded 

“The La Fare estate,” d’Artagnan said making both older men paused and look at him in shock, “Athos offered me money and protection if I testify, I’ll make him an offer to do so but only if you two are protected too”.

 

Aramis turned to Porthos in open-mouthed shock at the suggestion, the larger man shook his head   
“That’s bollocks kid, he’ll never go for it”

“He might,” d’Artagnan said, “And what other choice do we have?” 

More banging and the sound of a car engine being revved likely to be used to take down the door decided everything for them 

“Alright brat you lead the way,” Porthos said, “And try to make the route one we mere mortals can follow, not to much of that acrobatic shit yeah?”

“Not my fault you’re an old man!” d’Artagnan teased 

“Watch it brat or you’ll feel the back of my hand!”

 

D’Artagnan and Aramis had barely reached the ground when the door to their factory was burst open and the gang thugs burst inside with a shower of bullets 

“Porthos!” Aramis cried in alarm 

“Hurry the fuck up man!” d’Artagnan yelled as Porthos climbed out of the window 

The sound of shouting and more gunfire followed and d’Artagnan and Aramis were forced to watch as Porthos tried to make his way down as fast as he could 

“Come on babe!” Aramis whispered bouncing from foot to foot 

d’Artagnan’s heart was in his mouth as watched Porthos move closer to the ground when suddenly one of the gang members appeared at the window and let out a mouthful of expletives that would have made a sailor turn several shades whiter!

He took his gun and fired at Porthos, Aramis, and d’Artagnan.

His aim was shit and all he managed was to graze d’Artagnan’s ribs, but the fright was enough to do the real damage as Porthos lost his grip and footing and fell. 

 

Aramis screamed in horror as Porthos plummeted from the wall, it seemed to be happening in slow motion, it seemed that if he ran fast enough then he could get there in time to be beneath Porthos so he could catch him. 

But of course the fall was in real time and in just a second or two Porthos had hit the ground with a sickening crunch and howl of pain!

 

“No, no, no, no!” Aramis screamed dropping to his knees beside Porthos who thank God was still alive but moaning in pain with his right leg twisted under him likely broken 

Shouting came from above them and d’Artagnan dropped down beside Porthos and Aramis   
“We have to go now!” he hissed taking Porthos by the left shoulder to lift him 

“He might have spinal injuries!” Aramis protested 

“He’ll have fucking bullet injuries if you don’t hurry the fuck up!” d’Artagnan snarled “Now fucking help me get him the fuck out of here!”

“Do it Mis!” Porthos panted “We gotta move now!”

Cursing under his breath Aramis did as d’Artagnan said and lifted Porthos by his right shoulder. 

Between them, they managed to get the large man to his feet and half carried him away with Porthos hopping on his good leg as fast as he could manage while keeping his broken one off the ground as bullets sprayed the ground after them

“I know a way into the sewer!” d’Artagnan said, “We can go down there use it to get a few blocks away and lose these fuckers!”

“Great we trade one rat for another!” Aramis complained panting as he supported Porthos’s not inconsiderable weight 

“No time to be finicky pet” Porthos panted his face ashen and sweat soaked from the pain he was in “Lead the way Kid, let’s get the fuck outta here!”.

 

******************************************************************************************************

 

La Fare Estate

 

Athos was more than a little tipsy from the amount of scotch he’d drunk when the doorbell began to ring insistently.

Anne was out once again, at some fashion show or other with her girlfriends that had sounded so tedious Athos hadn’t paid any attention to her at all and scarcely noticed as she walked out the door. 

 

Staggering as he rose from his chair by the fire he made his way to the door and opened it stopping dead in his tracks when he found three individuals on the doorstep that he certainly never expected to see. 

“My friend's leg is broken,” d’Artagnan said, “We were attacked by fuckwits coming to kill me because you gave my identity out, likely to the cops who surprise to surprise are in the pockets of every gang in the city!”

It was likely a testament to how drunk Athos was that he made no comment but simply stepped back and allowed them inside his house   
“Where can we take him?” Aramis asked meaning Porthos 

“S’okay I know the way to the Study” d’Artagnan said leading the way with Athos trailing behind them. 

 

Once they had Porthos settled into a chair Aramis quickly made use of the wet board and got a drink for Porthos to take the edge off the pain 

“It’s gonna be okay baby I promise!” Aramis said stroking Porthos’s sweaty face in tender nervousness, “He needs a Doctor!” he said to d’Artagnan who turned to Athos his face steely in a determination 

“I have a proposition for you,” he said to Athos “One I think you really want to hear”…..


	10. Chapter 10

La Fare estate 

 

Athos called in his personal physician Dr. Lemay to come and treat Porthos and d’Artagnan’s injuries. 

While they were waiting for him to arrive Athos splashed some cold water on his face and downed two cups of very strong coffee to try and sober himself up some. 

All the while he did this, d’Artagnan’s offer played in his mind. Dare he believe what the boy was saying? It did seem too good to be true. Yet what did he have to lose? It wasn’t as if anyone else was coming forward to testify in court about his Brothers murder if the cops ever did track down the perpetrator of the murder. 

d’Artagnan’s offer did seem fair, all he wanted was for his friends to be safe, which considering the fact they had already been shot at by a gang was not really asking too much. 

 

The doorbell rang and Athos sighed, he ran a hand through his unruly hair once more and left the kitchen, making his way to the front to let in Lemay. 

“Thank you for coming on such short notice,” he said as Lemay stepped into the mansion 

“Of course,” Lemay said taking off his coat and letting Athos hang it up for him, “I stopped by the hospital on my way, I have what I need to make a cast, but really this man needs to have an x-ray, I can set the bone but I can’t be sure of internal damage”

“I understand,” Athos said “But these people are in a lot of danger, going to the hospital right now is not possible”

“And the boy with the gunshot wound?” 

Athos shrugged “He says it was a graze, he doesn’t seem to be bleeding too much so he may be right” 

“Let’s hope so,” Lemay said “There is not much I can do for a serious gunshot wound outside of a theatre,” the doctor cast an amused glance at Athos “You do realize all gunshot wounds have to be reported to the police, don’t you?” 

Athos nodded “I’ll call Treville in the morning, tonight I just want to make them comfortable”

“Alright, but please do so, I don’t want to lose my license” 

“I will” Athos assured him swearing to make it clear to Treville that it was he who delayed the reporting of the gunshot wound and not Lemay. 

 

*******************************************************************************************************

 

When Athos left them in the study d’Artagnan took it upon himself to give into his curiosity and began to poke into everything. 

“Why do rich people have so much crap?” he asked as he picked up various ornaments, wrinkling his nose at them as he did so 

“Gotta spend their money on somethin’ I s’pose” Porthos grunted, he was still pale and his hands were shaking as they cupped the tumbler of whiskey he had been nursing 

“More money than sense?” Aramis suggested topping up Porthos’s glass, he eyed his lover’s raised leg and winced. The limb was horribly swollen, the flesh pressing against the fabric of his jeans tightly, his foot was twisted too far inwards and looked agonizing just to Aramis’s eyes, so God knows what it actually felt like. 

“Hey, brat!” Porthos called to d’Artagnan “You do know you’re drippin’ blood all over this fancy ass carpet, right?”

d’Artagnan made a kind of Heh noise and shrugged clearly unconcerned with the blood dripping from his ribs and went to sit at Athos’s desk, he froze for a moment in the chair as if testing it out before sinking into the chair, pulling one knee up and used his free leg to spin the chair round 

“I so wanna get one of these fuckers!” he declared as he spun round 

“Nice to know you have your priorities straight whelp!” Porthos chuckled, then as the door opened he sat up straight immediately going on alert.

d’Artagnan stopped spinning in the chair, and Aramis stood up beside Porthos placing a protective hand on his shoulder 

“It’s alright,” Athos said lifting his hands in a show of surrender “The Doctor’s here”

“Dr. Lemay” the newcomer stated “I’ll do what I can for you but you will still need to go to the hospital for further treatment”

Porthos snorted 

“That ain’t ‘appening, we ain’t got the money for that shit, jus’ patch us up and we’ll be fine”

“Always are” d’Artagnan agreed getting up off the chair, crossing the room to join Porthos 

“You take care of ‘im first yeah?,” he ordered the Doctor “I can wait”

Lemay eyed the blood staining d’Artagnan’s clothes with an unhappy gaze but did not argue, instead he laid out the equipment he had brought with him and began to treat Porthos. 

 

The first job was to remove the man’s boot which was easier said than done with his ankle at such an angle. 

“I need someone to hold his leg still while I get the boot off” Lemay ordered undoing the laces and spreading the leather as wide as he could so he would have room to work with 

“I’ve got it,” Aramis said kneeling down and carefully taking hold of Porthos’s leg, flinching when Porthos yelped 

“Just keep it nice and steady,” Lemay said very carefully sliding the boot inch by inch down over Porthos’s heel

Porthos had gone grey and was sweating profusely with his hands curled into tight fists, how he was keeping from crying out was beyond Athos who was feeling queasy just watching Lemay remove the boot from the swollen foot. 

After what felt like a lifetime, Lemay had the boot free and checked that the foot had blood supply before he took up a pair of scissors and cut up Porthos’s jeans to reveal the leg. 

 

Aramis let out a moan at the sight of the badly swollen, bruise mottled skin. 

Lemay very carefully pressed his fingers up Porthos’s calf, feeling for the fracture, when he found it Porthos let out a grunt and shot him a dark look 

“Sorry” Lemay apologized continuing to check the limb “It feels like a greenstick fracture but I can’t be sure without an x-ray, really you need to be in hospital”

“Can’t do that Doc,” Porthos said through clenched teeth “Asswipes who did this t’me will still be lookin’ for us, we have lay low”

“I’ll take him in the morning,” Athos said but Lemay shook his head as he examined Porthos’s ankle 

“There’s another fracture here, an unstable one, if I try and set this without the correct equipment I’ll cause further damage” 

Lemay looked up at Porthos apologetically “You have to let me take you to the hospital now,” he said “I’ll have you admitted as my patient under another name, but I have to do this, you need surgery to fix this and if you don’t have it you risk losing the use of your leg” 

Aramis bowed his head with a quietly whispered “Fuck” 

d’Artagnan showed no such control, he spun around and slammed his fist into the wall with a furious cry! 

“Hey!” Athos protested “Do you mind not damaging my property?”

“Fuck you man!” d’Artagnan yelled back at him, spinning around and glaring at Athos “This is all your fucking fault!”

Athos’s eyebrows rose towards his hair, “My fault?” he asked incredulously 

“Yes!” d’Artagnan cried “If you had just let me leave after I told you about your dick head brother then none of this shit would have happened!”

“Well if you blame me why bother coming to me for help?” Athos shouted back, he had never been accused of being diplomatic at the best of times and considering the fact he was still suffering the effects of his earlier indulgences this was far from a good time

“Where the fuck else would I go?” d’Artagnan all but screamed, he paused to draw breath and let out a quiet sob and ran a bloody hand through his platinum blonde hair   
“I felt sorry for you,” he whispered, “I wanted to help you, I risked everything by coming here and doing so and all I asked was that you not go to the police about me and yet you did just that!”

“I only told Treville and picked your photo from a mug shot” Athos said 

“Which gave the pigs d’Arts identity,” Aramis spat at him “They’re all on the fucking take, as soon as they learned who he was they told their bosses who put a bounty on his head!”

Athos shook his head and rolled his lips “I didn’t realize” he whispered feeling very ignorant all of a sudden 

“If you are all quite done shouting?” Lemay asked “I am taking Porthos to the hospital and getting him treatment,” he looked to d’Artagnan “Since I doubt you’ll come with us I’ll check you over and give you stitches if needs be”

d’Artagnan nodded his head and slipped off his jacket with a wince as he did so, “Mis, you go to the hospital with Port, okay?” 

“What?” Aramis asked with a frown 

“We ain’t leavin’ you alone d’Art,” Porthos said 

“Ain’t gonna leave you alone neither big guy,” d’Artagnan replied “And I’ll be fine”

“He will,” Athos said to Porthos “I’ll make sure of it”

Porthos snorted and rolled his eyes 

“Great comfort!” 

Athos flushed at the scorn but bit his lip refraining from commenting, he glanced at d’Artagnan and felt his stomach lurch at the sight of the boy’s naked torso. 

It wasn’t just the ragged bloody wound streaking over the boy’s ribs which continued to ooze blood that Lemay was dabbing at with a disinfectant-soaked swab that made Athos’s gut clench, but the unmistakable beauty of d’Artagnan. 

Even wounded, undernourished, and dirty he was a sight to behold. 

All long slender limbs and whipcord lean lines wrapped in olive skin that was practically flawless. 

While he could certainly do with gaining a few pounds he was not emaciated, his body sported some healthy muscle which flexed as he breathed rather rapidly as Lemay continued to disinfect the wound and set about giving him stitches. 

“You’ll need to keep this dry,” he said to d’Artagnan “No strenuous activity for at least six weeks, while your ribs may not be broken, one or two are definitely cracked and need that time to heal”

“Sure Doc, whatever” d’Artagnan dismissively murmured, watching with a suspicious eye as the Doctor stitched him 

Athos supposed that after being on the streets for so long d’Artagnan would not be able to trust with any ease, these other two, Aramis, and Porthos, they clearly meant something to him, were his family Athos guessed, and it was obvious that they felt the same about d’Artagnan too. 

While he knew that neither Anne nor Treville would like it, he was going to accede to d’Artagnan’s request. After all it would not put much of a dent in his pocket to give these three a home, certainly the mansion was large enough for them to stay here without them encroaching on each-others privacy, and when Thomas’s killer was brought to justice Athos could arrange for them to have an apartment in a new city, provide them with enough money to make a fresh start away from the gangs of this City, somewhere they would be safe. 

 

Lemay made short work of the stitching and applied a dressing to d’Artagnan’s side before wrapped bandages about his ribs and securing them with a safety pin. 

“Please try and take things easy?” he asked the boy who gave a non-commital shrug 

Shaking his head Lemay rose to his feet and packed away the supplies, he took a bottle of pills from his case and handed them to d’Artagnan 

“Painkillers,” he said “You can take one every six hours, they might make you feel light headed and sleepy but shouldn’t cause any other side effects”

d’Artagnan hummed and slipped the bottle into his pocket, not looking inclined to start taking them 

“Alright,” Lemay said drawing a deep breath “Let’s get you to the hospital Porthos”. 

 

Between them Lemay and Aramis carried Porthos out to the car and placed him into the passenger seat, Aramis got in the back, and Lemay the driver's seat, he paused as he started the engine, rolled down the window and called to Athos who was standing in the doorway with d’Artagnan 

“I’ll call you from the hospital when we have news”

“Thank you” Athos called back, together he and d’Artagnan watched as the car pulled away

d’Artagnan, Athos noticed as was hunched in on himself, his expression drawn and pinched in worry, he looked so painfully young and vulnerable that it made Athos’s heartache in sympathy for him, he wanted to do something to help him

“Do you like hot chocolate?” he found himself asked 

“What?”, d’Artagnan looked at him in confusion 

“Hot chocolate!” Athos repeated, “Would you like one?” 

“Uh, sure,” d’Artagnan said uncertainly, Athos gave him a tremulous smile and guided him back into the mansion, leading the way to the kitchen where he set about making them both hot chocolate and whipped cream. 

They were both sat in the kitchen drinking the chocolate when Anne finally arrived home…


	11. Chapter 11

Hospital 

 

Aramis was to antsy to sit down for very long. 

He hated hospitals, hated the smell of them. The disinfectant mixed with blood, vomit, and urine. It always made him queasy, and too uncomfortable to relax. 

There was also the fact that hospitals had too many security cameras and frequent visits from police for someone like himself to feel comfortable. 

Porthos was taken straight into theatre for surgery on his leg under the name Isaac Porthau and was registered as Lemay’s private patient to avoid any difficult questions being asked. 

 

From what Aramis knew the surgeons were setting Porthos’s leg and securing the bone with a pin, or something like that, Aramis really wasn’t sure, he hadn’t understood all the medical jargon that had been spouted from the doctors and nurses.

 

Glumly Aramis slumped against the wall of the waiting room he’d found his way into and looked down at his feet and wrapped his arms about himself and shifted his left foot about in a nervous titch 

“Drink this!” 

Aramis jumped as a cup of coffee was placed before him and he turned to see Dr Lemay standing beside him. 

“Thanks” he said accepting the cup, he took a sip and his nose wrinkled at the poor flavour 

“Sorry, its only machine coffee that cafeteria is closed” Lemay said apologetically 

“S’okay” Aramis replied “I’ve had way worse over the years,” he grinned “You should have tried this crack heads attempt at home made hooch!” 

Lemay’s eyebrows rose, “How bad was it?” 

“I threw up for three days straight and thought my stomach was going to explode!”

Lemay snorted with laughter “Reminds me of when I was in med school, to try and stay awake to work we used drink triple strength coffee mixed with energy drinks!”

Aramis made a face “That sounds disgusting, and I live with a kid who likes to make peanut butter and apricot jam sandwiches!”

“That’d be d’Artagnan I assume?” Lemay asked 

“Uh huh”

“How did you two meet?” 

“Long story” 

Lemay shrugged “Porthos will be in surgery for a few hours yet so we’ve plenty of time”, he went and took a seat on one of the chairs and stretched out his legs in front of him 

Shrugging Aramis joined the Doctor and sat himself down. 

“I met Porthos and d’Art on the streets a couple of years ago,” he said “My pimp had beat me up bad, Porthos took me in, helped me, he and I got together after that, been together every since”

“Your Pimp?” 

Aramis shot Lemay a hard look, “It ain’t just chicks who turn tricks Doc, perverts like asses just as much as they do pussy, and a hand and a mouth are the same no matter the gender”

Lemay held up his hands in a sign of peace and Aramis sighed and shook his head 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap, I just get a bit defensive sometimes, it’s a reflex”

“Understandable,” Lemay replied “Porthos and d’Artagnan aren’t…I mean they don’t…?”

“Turn tricks? No, d’Arts a thief, Porthos is an enforcer for the highest bidder” Aramis replied, he gave Lemay a bitter smile   
“He’s a good kid you know? Our d’Art, he was just twelve when his Father was murdered in a mugging gone wrong, been on the streets ever since. Porthos was born on the streets, spent his whole life there, never known anything else, they didn’t get a choice in what happened to them, me though?” Aramis gave a hollow laugh “I was a damn fool, I put myself here through my own stupidity”

Lemay tilted his head giving Aramis a sympathetic look “I doubt that”

“Oh it’s true!” Aramis said “I left home willingly, with a fuckwit I thought I was in love with, who started pimping me out and knocking me around until I met Porthos and got away from him”

“You can’t have been very old” Lemay said looking Aramis over, he could not be much more than twenty-two or twenty-three, he was most likely little more than a child when he left home, “Its not your fault”

“Isn’t it?” Aramis asked “I was stupid, and too proud to go home when that bastard started smacking me around”, he bent forward looking down at his feet “Porthos and d’Artagnan are all I have, all that’s kept me from going mad all these years”

“They seem like nice people” Lemay said “And you’ll all be together again soon”

Aramis snorted “Sure, until the next asswipe gang comes round and does more than give us flesh wounds”

“Athos will make sure that doesn’t happen”   
Aramis scoffed and shook his head, he gave Lemay an incredulous look, “You actually believe that the little rich boy can save us don’t you? That he cares about us at all?” 

Before Lemay could answer Aramis got up and started his pacing again 

“Learn the lesson the hard way Doc” he said “Ain’t nobody in this world who cares about anyone but themselves”

“Well if that’s true, how do you explain d’Artagnan and Porthos helping you?” 

Aramis didn’t answer the question, he kept his back turned to Lemay and bit his bottom lip hoping that he’d soon be reunited with Porthos and then d’Artagnan, he wasn’t use to being alone, hadn’t been alone in a long time, and really didn’t handle it well, he needed Porthos at his side to feel strong and d’Artagnan with them, he needed his family, and right now they were both far away from him and he was all alone. 

 

 

******************************************************************************************************

 

La Fare Manor 

 

d’Artagnan froze when Anne came in. 

He had never been great around new people, even before he’d become a thief. 

A shy child, he had taken a while before warmed up to new people and never introduced himself first. 

Since living on the streets he had learned to stay introverted as a way of keeping himself alive. 

Keeping yourself to yourself meant that you didn’t attract attention so you didn’t get the crap kicked out of you. 

 

Athos rose from his seat when Anne came in and smiled at her “You’re home earlier than I thought”

Anne tilted her head at the statement, her eyes flicked from Athos to d’Artagnan and back “Am I?” she asked “And who’s this?”

Athos looked to d’Artagnan, he looked like a deer in the headlights, terribly young and very frightened 

“Its alright” Athos said to him “This is Anne, my Fiancé”

d’Artagnan flicked his eyes to Athos and then back to Anne who was studying him coolly 

“Anne, this is d’Artagnan, he’s going to be staying with us for a while, along with some friends of his”

Anne blinked and rose her eyebrows “d’Artagnan?” she repeated “The boy who saw poor Thomas die?” 

Athos took a deep breath nodding his head 

“Yeah,” d’Artagnan murmured “That’d be me”, rising from his seat he placed a hand over his ribs “If you could just show me a place to crash that’d be great” he said to Athos 

“Of course!” Athos said “You must be exhausted”, he paused and looked to Anne “You don’t mind do you?” 

She gave him a truly magnificent smile “Of course not, you go and show d’Artagnan the guest bedroom” 

Athos smile and kissed her cheek feeling relieved by her easy acceptance of this, he wrapped his arm about d’Artagnan’s thin shoulders feeling the boy flinch under his touch as he did but was gratified by the fact that d’Artagnan didn’t pull away and let him lead him out of the room. 

 

“So you’re gonna marry her?” d’Artagnan asked as Athos lead him from the kitchen and down the hall

“I am” Athos said 

“Why?”, d’Artagnan shrugged when Athos gave him a surprised look, “She isn’t a very honest person, or a nice one” d’Artagnan said 

Athos stopped in the hall turning to look at d’Artagnan in confusion “What makes you say something like that?” 

d’Artagnan shrugged “I live on the streets” he said “You learn to read people, body language and expression tell you far more about people than what they say to you” 

“And you don’t think Anne is honest” Athos said 

“I know she isn’t” d’Artagnan said “And if I were you, I’d watch my back”, he pushed off the wall he was leaning on and continued on down the hall “C’mon, show me my room then you can go screw your gold digging bitch!” 

Athos opened his mouth then closed it again, one minute he thought he understood d’Artagnan, the next he didn’t know a damn thing about him. 

While he couldn’t explain it he couldn’t help but feel cautioned by d’Artagnan’s words about Anne and her honesty towards him, he knew he shouldn’t trust d’Artagnan just like that, he didn’t know him, but there was something about the boy that just made him want to believe him, and if he did believe him, believe what he said then he couldn’t trust Anne. 

**************************************************************************************************** 

 

Anne stood in the kitchen her teeth gritted as she punched a text into her mobile. 

Why had she trusted that a bunch of no hope gang assholes could do the job and not finished it herself? 

If there was one thing she had learned in her years, it was that the only person she could ever rely on was herself. 

After a few moments her phone rang and she answered it. 

“The boy is here, Athos has taken him in, said something about friends of his but I don’t know where they are”

“The boy is alive?” Rochefort asked 

“Yes, and mostly unharmed” Anne replied “What d’you want me to do?” 

“Wait” Rochefort ordered “A rash move now will jeopardise everything, keep an eye on the boy, do not let him leave”

Anne ended the call and took a deep breath, forcing a smile onto her face, so she’d have to play nice for a while, that was alright, she could do that, and when the time came it would make killing the little brat all the sweeter.


	12. Chapter 12

Porthos awoke in a hospital bed with a needle inserted in his left hand, an oxygen tube up his nose, and a leg encased in plaster from foot to knee. 

“Oh hey you’re awake!” Aramis chirped from the hospital chair he had curled himself up in, he unfolded his legs and leaned forward to take Porthos’s hand   
“How are you feeling?” 

“Fuckin’ stoned!” Porthos replied groggily “What the fuck they got me on?”

“Morphine I think” Aramis replied 

“Huh, good shit man, you should try it!” 

Aramis snickered as relief flooded him, if Porthos was joking then he was feeling better, and if he was feeling better then there was nothing for them to worry about. 

Well, nothing but d’Artagnan at least. 

“Have you been here all night?” Porthos asked noting how tired Aramis looked, and how messy his hair was

Aramis shrugged “Where else would I be?” 

“With the brat” 

Aramis grinned “I think he’s making himself at home with Mr Moneybags, you might have been too out of it to notice but they were making eyes at each other big time!”

Porthos rose his eyebrows “Mr Billionaire has a taste for street kids huh?”

“Maybe he thinks of himself as Richard Geer!” Aramis snorted then wrinkled his nose “Though that’d be more line of work I guess,” he shrugged “Maybe something will come of it and d’Art will get off the streets, get a decent life”  
“I dunno” Porthos said shaking his head “I think the kid’s been on the streets too long now, he’s got it engrained in his system, I don’t think he’ll ever be able to have a normal life after all these years.” He tilted his head looking at Aramis thoughtfully   
“Wish you could get that?” 

Aramis frowned “What?” 

“A better life, one off the streets, one you didn’t have to turn tricks to get by?”

“No!”, That was Aramis’s immediate response, then he rolled his eyes and went on “I don’t wanna turn tricks, I hate turning tricks. But I don’t care where I live so long as its with you, I never want to be anywhere but at your side Porthos”, he smiled and leaned forward to kiss him “For the rest of my life I’m gonna be right here with you no matter what”

“Damn right you are” Porthos said firmly, he wrapped a hand about the back of Aramis’s head fisting his hair, “I ain’t never letting you go”

Aramis giggled, “Careful babe, you’ll be asking me to marry you next!”

“What, like we ain’t already fuckin’ married without the damn rings?” Porthos snorted “You’re my misses and you know it an I’m your old man”

“Which makes d’Art our love child!” Aramis sighed and shook his head “Please don’t ever tell him I said that, I don’t want him calling me Mummy or some shit!”

“No problem babe, I don’t want the little brat calling me Dad neither!”. 

 

*******************************************************************************************************

 

La Fare Manor 

 

d’Artagnan sat slumped in his chair at the dining room table that could comfortably seat twelve, insolently he had his feet lifted up and pressed against the edge of the table and his scowl seemed permanently fixed to his face as he stared at Treville. 

“Problem?” Athos asked as he served them all coffee and gaped at the amount of sugar d’Artagnan tipped into his cup!

“I don’t like fuckin’ pigs!” the boy grunted and noisily slurped his coffee “Make me nervous”

Treville snorted “I wonder why, guilty conscience perhaps?” 

“Fuck you pig!” d’Artagnan shot back “If you wankers did your fuckin’ jobs properly my Dad would still be alive, instead your too busy takin’ back handers off the friggin’ gangs,” he snickered “I kicked the shit out of a couple of your guys yesterday, found the fuckers about to beat up this kid they thought was me”

Treville sighed and scratched the back of his head, “I know there is a lot of corruption in the force, it’s partly why I wanted to keep your identity secret and so far as I knew it was, I never gave out your name to anyone”

“Then how did it get out?” d’Artagnan asked looking to Athos but dismissed that thought immediately, “Someone obviously knew and decided to share that info with every bastard in the city, which is why I got shot and my brothers in the hospital with a broken leg”

“I’m sorry about that” Athos said 

“It’s not your fault” Treville quickly replied 

“Uh yes it is!” d’Artagnan corrected “If he’d not called you in and let me go like I wanted none of this shit would have happened”, he drained his coffee cup and reached for the pot to get another “Good coffee this” he said to Athos 

“Colombia’s finest” Athos replied with a grin

“Cool”, d’Artagnan slurped his second cup and bounced in his seat “So, we gonna make a deal or what?” he said to Treville 

Treville narrowed his eyes at him “This is not a game young man, you will have to go to court, tell the truth, face difficult questions by the defence, questions about your character”

“What? That I’m street trash, so fuckin’ what I can handle it!”

“Can you?” Treville asked looking hard at d’Artagnan “I have known a lot of kids like you, ended up on the streets because the world failed them, fell into crime to survive, put on a rough exterior to keep from getting hurt but under that fragile shell of sass and bad language they’re still the little kids that need help”

d’Artagnan jumped up from the table over turning his chair, “I don’t need shit from no one!” he snarled 

“Then why are you here?” Treville countered “Why did you bring your friends here for help if you don’t need help?”

“Fuck you!”

“Stop!” Athos shouted slamming his fist on the table and cringed at the pain that shot through his wrist, “Just stop for a minute!” he said calmly “d’Artagnan I will make a deal with you, if you testify then I will take care of you and your friends, I’ll give you enough money for the three of you to build a new life for yourselves away from the city, new identities everything you need”

“Wait a moment…” Treville began to protest 

“How much?” d’Artagnan asked biting at his bottom lip 

Athos shrugged “A million, two, you can name your own price!”

An amazed look came over d’Artagnan’s face “You’d really do that wouldn’t you?” 

“I will do it” Athos said “Money means nothing, getting justice for Thomas is what matters”

d’Artagnan nodded “You are just one of those weird nice guys aren’t you?”, he grinned “I’ll help, I’ll testify if the bitch who did it is ever caught, and I don’t care about millions, I just want my friends safe, I put them in danger so I have to make them safe again”

“I’ll see to the three of you getting witness protection” Treville said “Can I have their full names?”

“I only know them as Porthos and Aramis” d’Artagnan said “Porthos was born on the streets, he doesn’t have a birth certificate or anythin’ like that, Mis was a run away, I’m not sure what his full name is”

“Then I’ll have to speak to them separately”, Treville sighed knowing it would be an equally difficult discussion and he would no doubt have to endure as many insults from them as he had from d’Artagnan, “Alright if I can take a statement from you today then I can get the ball rolling and hopefully we’ll have this sorted soon and the murderer brought to justice, I’ll also see to temporary housing for..”

“They’ll be staying with me” Athos said cutting Treville off “Till everything is sorted and the murderer is behind bars they’ll be staying here with me and Anne, he shrugged and gestured about the room “It’s not like we don’t have the space”

“Friggin’ yeah!” d’Artagnan said “The room you gave me is like the size of a whole apartment!”

“Complaining?”

“Jus’ saying” 

“Very well” Treville said laying out the official statement form “Let’s get the statement down, and please use as much detail as you can”. 

 

***************************************************************************************************** 

Outside the dining room Anne listened to every word being said. 

She mentally noted the names Aramis and Porthos and texted them to Rochefort. 

The more she knew the more she could use to her advantage. 

The text back revealed Aramis to be a whore and Porthos an enforcer, tough as they came and desired by all the gangs but refused to be anything but freelance. 

He was going to be only difficulty she’d have, d’Artagnan and Aramis she could kill with ease, Porthos could put up a fight…although from what she’d heard he had a broken leg which would even the playing field. 

“What should it be I wonder?” she asked herself quietly “Suicides, poisoning, one turning on the others and everyone getting killed?” she smiled to herself “So many possibilities to chose from”.


	13. Chapter 13

Porthos was released from the hospital after three days. 

The Doctors wanted to keep him in for longer but short of actually tying him to the bed there was no way of keeping him there. 

With his leg still in plaster he was unable to walk and would be like that for a good eight weeks, he’d then be put into an air cast and have to start physio, the air cast would remain on for another eight weeks by which time the bones would have healed and he should be back to walking unaided. 

As the stairs were impossible for him right now, Athos had a bedroom made up for him and Aramis downstairs in the parlour. 

Between them he and d’Artagnan moved one of the beds downstairs, along with a wardrobe and chest of draws for them to use. 

 

When he came to the manor from the hospital Aramis and d’Artagnan helped him to the make shift bedroom and settled him on the bed, placing his crutches besides him in case he needed them. 

“So how you doing big guy?” d’Artagnan asked looking Porthos over, he looked pale, and he was sleepy from the pain killers he was taking. He looked vulnerable and fragile right now rather than the strong determined man who’d kept both d’Artagnan and Aramis safe all these years. 

“I’m fine brat” Porthos said ruffling d’Artagnan’s hair affectionately “What about you? Cut a deal with the pigs and moneybags?” 

d’Artagnan shrugged “Kinda,” he said “The deal’s more with Athos than with the pigs, he’s…nice”

Porthos rose an eyebrow and glanced to Aramis who shot him an ‘I told you so’ look 

“He’s nice is he?” Porthos asked sounding half paternal and half patronising “Is this the time to talk to you about the birds and the bees?” 

d’Artagnan balked in horror “Porthos!” 

The large man shrugged a grin on his face “I just want to make sure my kid Brother knows what he’s getting into!”

d’Artagnan’s cheeks flamed bright red and made a whining unhappy noise in his throat and fled the room before Porthos could emotionally scar him any further!

 

“Leave the poor little bugger alone!” Aramis chided “He can’t help being so innocent!” 

“I know but he’s so adorable when he blushes like that!” Porthos snickered, he spread his arms beckoning Aramis to join him on the bed which the other man did without hesitation and snuggled up against him. 

Porthos picked up the remote that had been left on the table besides the bed and turned on the TV that had been moved into the room for his pleasure,  
“Billionaire’s gotta have Netflix right?” 

“He probably owns half the freakin’ stock!” Aramis snorted as Porthos turned on Netflix, sure enough Athos’s account came up and Porthos clicked on it, going into Netflix and began to scroll through the movies 

“What d’you fancy pet?” he asked “Comedy, action, horror?”

“Comedy” Aramis said “I’ve had enough of scares and gun fights for a while”

Porthos huffed a small laugh and wrapped his arm about his boyfriend while he selected a movie for them to watch. 

 

*********************************************************************************************************

D’Artagnan’s cheeks were still red when he made his way to the kitchen to get some snacks. 

Porthos was always hungry, it came from never having enough to eat and having to make do with whatever there was to fuel his body. 

d’Artagnan was similar in that respect, he didn’t turn food down, he knew better than to risk starving, he’d had to go for days on end without anything in his stomach and hated it, the ache inside, the permanent headache, the dizziness, the shaking, the lack of energy. 

Since then he’d eaten whenever he’d had the chance, whether or not he liked the food he ate it anyway if only to avoid being so painfully hungry again. 

 

Athos was already in the kitchen making coffee when he got there and d’Artagnan felt his cheeks heat once again as he saw the older man, who thankfully had his back to him. 

Aramis calling him an innocent was quite accurate. 

He had practically no experience when it came to crushes, he’d never had a crush on anyone, never even had sex! 

He had no idea what to do about these feelings, wasn’t even sure what it was he was feeling, Athos made his mouth grow dry, his stomach fluttery, and his body feel hot and cold at the same time. 

It was an unsettling feeling, one that made d’Artagnan want to run and hide until he felt normal again, and in complete contradiction, want to stay and be close to Athos right now. 

He flinched when Athos turned and faced him, and he found himself wondering what Athos’s beard would feel like against his skin if they were to kiss, and what kissing Athos would be like.

He’d never kissed anyone but his Father, Porthos, and Aramis, and those weren’t real kisses, they were pecks on the cheek, a show of familial affection not a kiss of passion. 

Athos’s lips were partially hidden by his beard, but they looked generous enough to be pleasing, the top lip was slightly raised and there was the faint line of a scar running up to Athos’s nose. 

A cleftlip? 

Would that make kissing him different or would it be the same as kissing anyone else? 

God! D’Artagnan had to stop thinking about kissing!

“Are you alright?”

The question startled d’Artagnan and he rapidly nodded his head and averted his gaze looking down to the floor 

“Are you sure?” Athos asked “You seem a little, nervous?” 

“I’m good” d’Artagnan lied “I was just looking for some popcorn, or taco chips, Porthos really likes taco chips”

“Cupboard” Athos said pointing to the third cupboard from the fridge

d’Artagnan nodded his head and stiffly made his way there locating a good supply of junk food that was practically falling out of the cupboard, in fact a couple of chocolate bars did fall out!

“Anne only eats healthy food,” Athos said with a small smile “She’s always worried about her weight, so she makes me hide the good stuff so she won’t be tempted”

d’Artagnan wrinkled his nose “Is that why the fridge is fully of celery, lettuce, and other rabbit food shit?” 

Athos chuckled “Yeah, yes, it is” he said 

“And she makes you have the food you like hidden away?” d’Artagnan frowned at this “It’s your house, why don’t you tell her to stick it?” 

Athos gave him a confused look, “It’s our house, she is going to be my wife”

“She ain’t yet though, and you’ve a got a right to have what you like to eat here rather than what she insists on eating, why live under her thumb if you have a choice?”

“I’m not under her thumb” Athos said steadily, he was beginning to become frustrated by the boy’s blatantly bad attitude towards Anne, but he couldn’t help but feel the boy had a point. Everything in the kitchen, hell practically everything in the house was Anne’s choice, what bed linen they used, what style of furniture they had, what movie they watched on lazy evenings together. 

It had been so long that Athos couldn’t even remember making a decision about such things! 

Anne had always been so dominant, a natural decision maker, it had been easy for Athos to just agree with what she wanted and at some point he’d stopped even thinking about it. Maybe he should talk to Anne about it, start to put his own opinions forth when it came to making decisions.

 

As he thought about this d’Artagnan located a large plastic bowl and filled it with the chips and got three cans of Dr Pepper Zero from the fridge to take through the Porthos and Aramis, he paused and looked at Athos curiously 

“You can join us if you want?” he said “We’re gonna be using your Netflix account I should think, we can have a boys day, just kick back, watch shit on the box and pig out on junk food”

The funny thing was just how tempting d’Artagnan’s offer actually was! 

How long had it been since Athos had spent a day like that? 

Generally, the days he wasn’t working were spent with Anne doing something she wanted, he hadn’t had a lazy day in front of TV in so long that he couldn’t remember the last time he’d done so. Maybe with Thomas before the rift between them had become so bad that they were hardly speaking, and dear God didn’t that hurt to think about? 

Thomas had died before he and Athos could make amends, his Brother had gone to the grave thinking his older brother disliked him. 

“Hey, are you alright?”

Athos startled and found himself looking at a concerned d’Artagnan who was gazing at him with worry on his face 

“I,” Athos gasped when he realized that there were tears in his eyes and spilling down his cheeks!

“Oh shit!” d’Artagnan inelegantly exclaimed and grabbed hold of the older man pushing him into a chair “It’s okay, it’s gonna be okay!” he babbled, wide eyed and panicked he looked about the kitchen as if seeking out something that could help, hurriedly he grabbed the fallen bars of chocolate off the counter and ripped them open shoving them in Athos’s face 

“Here!” he declared “Chocolate makes everything better!”

Athos was so startled by this that he couldn’t help but to laugh, he felt like a child being offered a treat after getting a scraped knee! 

D’Artagnan stared at him with such open concern and desperation to make him happy that Athos felt completely over whelmed by the gesture. 

It was an act of pure kindness that Athos could not recall receiving from anyone in so very long. 

Who was kind to a Billionaire after all? 

Who even stopped to think that a Billionaire might need kindness? 

He was always expected to be the kind one, the Philanthropist, the giver of gifts, not the one receiving them. 

Yet here he was sat in his kitchen being offered chocolate by a poorly dressed street thief who had nothing but the clothes he stood up in just because the boy wanted to cheer him up!

 

Breaking off a square of chocolate Athos smiled at d’Artagnan “Thank you” 

d’Artagnan nodded “Aramis always says chocolate makes everything better, gives it to me and Porthos when we’re unhappy” 

“Smart man” Athos murmured swallowing the chocolate 

“He is” d’Artagnan agreed, he cocked his head “You wanna join us?” he asked again “We can have lots more chocolate”

Athos would never know exactly what possessed him to do it but he found himself agreeing and going to join his three house guests in the parlour to watch comedy movies on the TV and share in the chocolate and taco chips that were passed around. 

Sitting there in a relaxed silence, broken only by the dialogue on the TV with three men he hardly knew and was worlds away from in their differences, Athos felt happier and more content than he had in a very long time.


	14. Chapter 14

La Fare Manor

 

Treville’s meeting with Porthos and Aramis went no better than his first meeting with d’Artagnan. 

 

Both men had extensive criminal records and were naturally uncomfortable about Police Officers. 

Porthos sat or rather slumped in one of the chairs in the drawing room, his large arms folded over his broad chest and a dark scowl seemingly permanently fixed on his face. 

Aramis hovered uncertainly behind him, nervously shifting his weight from hip to hip, his eyes kept darting towards the exits and his hands never left Porthos’s shoulders. 

It was both a show of support and protection for his lover and a seeking out of comfort for himself. 

d’Artagnan perched beside them on the edge of the table swinging his legs and shooting Treville looks that ranged between challenging, mischievous, and out right contemptuous depending on what the detective was saying. 

 

“I can not arrange for the both of you to have clean records, that simply isn’t in my power” he explained to Aramis and Porthos  
“That sort of thing has to be decided by a judge and is very rarely given. However, the charges against the two of you are minor offences, solicitation/prostitution, indecent exposure, and disturbing the peace” he read out from Aramis’s records, “Against the law but nothing that really warrants much attention. Porthos, your record is a bit more…bloody shall we say?”

Porthos bared his teeth in a feral grin 

“Two accounts of actual bodily harm, resisting arrest, assault of a law enforcement officer..”

“Fucker deserved it!” Porthos cut in, “Bastard tried to grope me!”

d’Artagnan snickered at this and blew a bubble with the gum her was chewing 

Treville frowned, “According to the reports you were being patted down in a search for weapons after you had broken the jaw, nose, and wrist of a Mr Antoine Lavesque!” He looked up at Porthos questioningly and the man shrugged 

“Fucker deserved it!” he repeated 

“You know who Lavesque is right?” Aramis asked Treville, “He’s a fuckin’ procurer for perverts, rounds up street kids, between the ages of twelve and fifteen, girls and boys and sells ‘em to the highest friggin’ bidder!”

“Underage sex slaves” d’Artagnan explained as if Treville hadn’t understood exactly what Aramis had meant, and Porthos was right, the fucker had deserved it and worse besides. 

 

“There are also charges of breaking and entering, vandalism, shop lifting, and car theft” Treville read out from the file, “Quite the career you’ve had Porthos, an extensive resume in crime”

As if it were a compliment, which it certainly was not, Porthos saluted Treville mockingly. The detective however, was not impressed,

“This may seem a joke to you Porthos but there is enough in this record to see you serving a good fifteen years, and with your back ground being what it is Judges would be very unlikely to think that you could ever turn over a new leaf and lead a life away from crime”  
“Once a thief always a thief?” d’Artagnan sneered at him, he leaned back and twisted his upper body to half lay across the table a challenging glare levelled on Treville again 

The Detective sighed, “Many would say yes, unlike yourself and Aramis, Porthos has no stable background, he grew up on the streets, has known nothing but a life of crime, has no education or abilities to support himself as anything but a thief or enforcer”

Porthos growled “I ain’t thick Pig!” 

“I’m not saying you are,” Treville wearily said, “I’m just saying that you have had no real education, you have never been to school, have you?”

Porthos clenched and unclenched his jaw refusing to answer, it was true though, he had never been to school, he couldn’t read or write, he’d never been taught to do so, because who would bother teaching a street kid such things?   
He flinched when an unfamiliar hand suddenly rested on his arm and he looked to his left to see Athos, who had until now been silent, giving him a friendly and maybe sympathetic look 

“If you’d like it I could arrange for you to have lessons here from a tutor?” he offered “All of you in fact” he said looking to Aramis and d’Artagnan

Aramis opened and closed his mouth without saying anything, d’Artagnan wrinkled his nose   
“I hated school!” 

Athos grinned, “Everyone hates school kid”

“I’m not a kid!” d’Artagnan indignantly shot back 

“Yeah you are!” Porthos teased, “You’re a brat too!”

d’Artagnan stuck his tongue out at them both proving just how mature he really wasn’t!

“Getting an education would be a good idea” Treville said “It would show a judge and jury that you are all serious about leaving your past behind you and looking to the future. You will all be much more likely to be granted immunity from your charges, especially if you all testify”

“Cause we’ll testify, s’what we’re ‘ere for ain’t it?” Porthos grumbled 

“It is” Treville conceded, “And I will need to have the statements from both yourself and Aramis” 

At once Aramis and d’Artagnan shot Porthos a worried look, he hated revealing that he couldn’t read or write to anyone, hated being made to look stupid even when it really wasn’t his fault in the least.

Treville must have been able to read something in their expressions as he realized his faux pass and spoke again 

“If the two of you can tell me exactly what happened in your own words I will write it out and then you can sign the statements”

Both d’Artagnan and Aramis looked very relieved by this and even Porthos looked grateful 

“And give a thought about the tutor” Athos said to them all, “I’d be very happy to arrange it for you”

“It could be an idea babe” Aramis said to Porthos resting a hand over his shoulder, “It’d give you something to do while your leg heals”

He was pretty much at G.C.S.E level education wise, where d’Artagnan would be just starting High School, Porthos however, he would need education from the very beginning. 

“We won’t get homework, right?” d’Artagnan asked Athos, “I hate homework”

Aramis grinned at him, it seemed decades ago that he’d been doing homework himself, complaining about it, bunking off lessons, cheating in exams. So much had happened to him since those care free days, the time when his biggest worry had been if he’d end up in detention. Then seemingly over night his worries had been where his next meal was coming from, if his boyfriend would do more than black his eye again, if he’d end up with an S.T.D from the bastards he was being pimped out to.

“No homework” Athos chuckled “In fact you could probably avoid some subjects you’re not interested in and focus on the ones you are”

“No Geography then” Aramis breathed in relief “Or R.S, and I’m pretty sure I know more about Sex Ed than any teacher ever will,” he paused and grinned, “Little d’Art might benefit from that subject though!”

d’Artagnan let out a horrified squawk and flushed crimson, he flew at a giggling Aramis beating him with his fists, soft painless punches that Aramis didn’t even bother to fight off as he cackled 

Athos watched the display with amusement, Treville just rolled his eyes and set out the paper work for the statements,

“You know he’s a Virgin, right?” Porthos said in a hushed whisper to Athos, who gazed at him in shock! 

Why would Porthos tell him this?

The large man rolled his eyes, “You and he might be blind idiots, but me and Mis ain’t,” he said, “We can see what’s going on between you two”

“There’s nothing going on between us!” Athos hissed in a hurried whisper, he glanced to Treville, but the detective was on his phone checking something or texting someone, and d’Artagnan and Aramis were still struggling, having now got into a tickle war!

“Nothing physical no,” Porthos agreed, “It’s just moony eyed looks at each other, but the feelings are there, any idiot can see it”

Athos shook his head in denial, “I’m engaged!” It should have been a statement of fact but it came out as a protest, a weak protest at that,

“Yeah,” Porthos drawled “And all engagements lead to marriage I suppose, and no marriages end in divorce.”   
He sighed and patted Athos’s knee, “I think that you need to think about what you want before you get down the aisle. If you’re having feelings for someone other than your fiancé then you are not ready to marry her, in fact, you may not want to be with her at all”

 

******************************************************************************************************

 

Outside the room, listening at the door again, Anne cursed under her breath. 

She was not blind, she had seen the looks d’Artagnan and Athos had shared. 

The boy was clearly pining for Athos, had no experience in this kind of thing and was falling in love with the older man and had no idea what to do about it. 

Athos was more subtle, but he was looking the same, he watched d’Artagnan when he thought no one was looking. 

He actively sort the common thief out to spend time with him, even cracked a few jokes with him, and, to Anne’s disgust, had a junk food binge with him more than once. 

Oh yes Athos was attracted to d’Artagnan, it was only his sense of morality that had kept him from acting on those feelings. 

Partly due to d’Artagnan’s dependence on him and his youth, but also because of his promise to Anne. A Promise she knew could be very easily broken. 

An engagement was not a marriage, all it took to end it was a conversation and the return of a ring, no lawyers involved or anything else. 

This was why Rochefort had been urging her to get pregnant, to get a firmer hold on Athos, but, try as she had, she was not pregnant, and, thanks to her waking with blood on the sheets two mornings ago, she could not even lie that she was as Athos had seen the blood. 

Unless she wanted to see all her plans ending right here and now she had to act and soon. 

Rochefort had wanted her to wait, to have the heat taken off them before they moved to remove d’Artagnan and his friends from the equation.   
But apparently time was not on their side, Anne had to get rid of them and fast. 

Part of her was tempted to call Rochefort and arrange help, but then she would have to explain why she needed the help so suddenly and reveal that yet again she had failed him. 

She was no fool, she knew he wouldn’t forgive her a second time for screwing up, he’d get rid of d’Artagnan, Aramis, and Porthos certainly, but he would also get rid of her too. He would cut his losses and she would be found with her throat slit open in an alley, a mugging gone wrong, or a rape that turned to murder. 

Anne shivered and cupped her throat in her hands half feeling the noose already about her throat. 

She had to do this on her own, Rochefort might not be happy about her moving ahead of agenda, but he would accept it, and would be reminded of how resourceful she was when needs arose.


	15. Chapter 15

La Fare Manor

Milady had to bide her time.  
She couldn’t act as fast as she might like without causing suspicion, she had to wait until the time was right before she could enact her plan.   
That time did not come for nearly three weeks during which she was living on the edge with her teeth gritted and hands permanently marked by her nails digging into them from having to share company with d’Artagnan. Aramis, and Porthos. 

For the most part, they did stay out of her way, Porthos was not really very mobile having to hobble about on crutches and wherever he was Aramis was, so they pretty much stayed in the room that Athos had set up for them.   
D’Artagnan didn’t stray far from them, and he didn’t exactly seek out her company, but Milady felt on edge every time their paths did cross.  
It did not help that the boy moved about like a cat.   
He was always lurking in the shadows, creeping about silently and seeming to appear out of nowhere.   
When she complained about it to Athos after the brat had nearly given her a heart attack by startling her in the living room her, oh so concerned fiancé had just said that he found the way the boy crept about fascinating and endearing.

He’d even loved the way the filthy street thief had been climbing all over the roof after scaling the walls, had spent an hour talking with d’Artagnan about parkour and how d’Artagnan had learned it on the streets.   
Milady knew she was acting a little jealous, or maybe very jealous, it wasn’t that she loved Athos, she didn’t love him in the least, what she loved was his money, his power, they were what she wanted from this.   
However, she disliked not being the center of his universe as she had been before the brat had turned up and captured Athos’s attention.   
Were she not so invested in marrying Athos and securing her financial future then she would cut her losses and leave Athos to his pathetic schoolboy crush.   
But she was in too deep now, she had no choice but to stay on this path and see it through to the end. 

The chance Milady had been waiting for to get rid of d’Artagnan, Aramis and Porthos presented itself in the form of an overnight business trip Athos needed to take out of town.   
Athos’s departure provided her with a perfect forty-eight hour period in which to get rid of her unwanted house guests for good.   
It wouldn’t be easy shifting dead weight, but it was nothing she hadn’t done before and she kept herself very fit for a reason.

 

*********************************************************************************************************

“Do you have to go?” d’Artagnan asked Athos as he perched on the edge of the older mans bed, he always looked like a cat about to spring into action, he never seemed to settle anywhere for very long, certainly not to relax, he was always like a coiled spring, even when he was sleeping. 

Athos had discovered that when he’d found d’Artagnan curled up on the chaise in the parlor.  
He was not relaxed and limp in his sleep as people generally were, he was tense, his muscles all tight and ready to leap into action at a seconds notice.   
Athos had wanted to lay a blanket over him, put a pillow under his head, stroke his hair and soothe the young man until he felt safe enough to settle.   
His inability to relax even in sleep must come from being on the streets, sleeping rough in doorsteps and alley’s must leave one a light sleeper and permanently on edge.   
The thought of the boy being attacked on the streets, beaten up, made to feel this unsafe wherever he was made Athos’ heartache and his blood boil, he wanted to find the assholes who’d hurt the boy and make them pay for it, wanted to provide comfort and security for d’Artagnan so he would finally feel safe.

Athos folded his dinner shirt and placed it in the suitcase giving d’Artagnan a smile 

“I wish I didn’t,” he said “I have no love of these sort of meetings, or the dinner’s that follow them, stuffy black-tie events with stuck up snobs who think money means class ugh!” he gave a dramatic shudder and made a face that made d’Artagnan laugh  
“Aren’t you supposed to be part of the stuck-up snob society with loads of money?” he asked “You’ve got the money at least”

Athos shook his head “My Father said money doesn’t excuse a lack of good manners or decent behavior, just because you can afford to buy luxuries shouldn’t mean that you start looking down on those less fortunate”  
D’Artagnan pursed his lips and nodded, “Smart man”

“He was,” Athos said, he looked curiously at d’Artagnan, “What was your Father like?”  
D’Artagnan looked up at him in surprise, it had been a long time since anyone had asked him about his Father, a long time since he had really spoken about him at all.  
“He was, he was a good man,” he said with some difficulty, “We were on our own since I can remember, my Mom died when I was really young and I don’t remember her, it was just me and Dad, he took care of me, we didn’t have a lot you know?” He looked up at Athos who was watching him intently and nodded his head   
“We weren’t rich by any means, but we had enough, I never went hungry or had to put up with shoes with holes in or anything like that, and he would,” d’Artagnan broke off biting his bottom lip 

“He would what?” Athos asked sitting down on the bed beside him and placed a hand on his knee, not to make a pass, just to offer comfort and support

“He’d make me hot chocolate whenever I was unhappy,” d’Artagnan said “He’d make it properly too, not just use instant stuff, he’d heat milk in a saucepan on the stove and blend in lots of cocoa so it was really chocolatey, and he’d add vanilla and cinnamon and put whipped cream on the top that I would always have to lick off before it all melted!”

Athos chuckled at the image that presented and d’Artagnan grinned 

“At Christmas, we’d bake cookies together and cover them with cinnamon icing, and marzipan muffins. One time when I was about seven I snuck into the pantry and got hold of the marzipan and ate it all! I was so sick after that, I was vomiting practically all night and Dad stayed with me the whole time, he didn’t tell me off or anything, he just gave me plenty to drink and rubbed my back when I was sick”

“He probably thought you learned your lesson,” Athos said with a smile, he could recall himself and Thomas doing something similar, only with their Mother’s favorite chocolate seashells when they’d been kids

“I guess” d’Artagnan murmured, he looked away from Athos his face closing off once more and his nervous twitching beginning, the infallible signal that he would be moving very soon 

“It’s okay to miss him,” Athos said making d’Artagnan jump at the unexpected words, the older man shrugged “I miss my Father, and my Mother and I miss my Brother. Missing people we’ve lost, that’s what makes us human”  
“Yeah,” d’Artagnan said “It’s always what helps make life such so much” before Athos could stop him he was up off the bed and heading out the door tossing a comment over his shoulder as he went 

“Have a good time at your meeting”

Athos sighed and silently cursed. Every time he thought he was getting close to d’Artagnan, was starting to get the kid to open up he would pull back and bolt like a frightened horse. Intellectually he knew why d’Artagnan was doing so, why he pulled away and kept himself from opening up, it was to protect himself from getting hurt, Athos could understand that he really could, but it was still damn frustrating. 

“He seemed more obnoxious than normal!”  
The comment came from Anne who sauntered into the bedroom kicking off her impossibly high stiletto shoes and flexing her toes into the carpet. 

As always she was dressed to kill, in a knee-length high waisted pencil skirt of crimson with a matching fitted jacket under which she wore only a black silk petticoat, no bra. 

Her make-up and hair were flawless, both complimenting her features and natural beauty without being overpowering, and her perfume smelled floral and sweet as it reached Athos’s nose.

Normally Athos would feel his mouth go dry at the sight of her, would find his cock hardening, especially when she slipped off the suit jacket to reveal her scantily dressed upper half. But today all he felt was a mild irritation though why he should feel that way he couldn’t explain. 

“Are you all packed and ready?” she asked him making a show of taking off her stockings, something that also generally worked to arouse Athos, but right now his cock seemed to be taking an afternoon nap for the interest it was taking!

“I’m ready,” he said, “You’re sure you can’t come with me?” 

Anne made an apologetic face, “I would if I could but I promised Susanna that I would go in for a fitting”, Susanna was the tailor who was fitting her wedding gown, Anne did indeed have a meeting with her, and would be having her dress fitted, while the drugs she would be lacing her unwanted house guests food and drink had a chance to kick in. 

One good thing about not touching the junk food in this house meant that she wouldn’t get drugged herself, and since all three couldn’t go a day without some form of trash and certainly not long without cans of coke or Pepsi or other rubbish it was easy to ensure they would become drugged. 

“We’ve really got to set a date you know?” she said to Athos 

“I know” Athos murmured numbly 

“When you get back from the trip we’ll do it”  
Again the flittering frown crossed Athos’s face, a sign of annoyance that Anne was growing tired of seeing, it was time for those street trash house guests to go, more than time in fact.

“How about I run us a bath?” she suggested to him, “It’ll be our last night together before you leave”  
She could see the strain in Athos’s eyes, see that he was struggling, he was only agreeing with her to not hurt her feelings, not because he actually wanted to take a bath with her. Someone else, someone less versed in body language might not have noticed, but she did, and it infuriated her all the more at d’Artagnan’s expense. 

Oh, that little brat would pay, by God, she would make him pay!

*********************************************************************************************************

As he always did when he was upset about something, d’Artagnan retreated into solitude.  
The best place for him to get that here was on the roof.

He’d come to love climbing onto the roof of the large house shortly after arriving there, the old-fashioned arches were fun to climb over and they provided the perfect perch for him to sit on and clear his thoughts.

From his perch, he could see the whole City in the distance, the tall buildings peaking out of the smog that filled the streets, the lights from the shops and restaurants, and the flashing lights of emergency service vehicles. 

He could easily picture the streets where he lived. The prostitutes looking for business on the corners, greeting potential Johns with a broad smile and dead-eyed stare. 

The junkies shaking and sweating as they searched for their next fix. 

The pick-pockets and thieves working their way through the crowds and the shops.

The beggars sitting in their corners with cardboard boxes before them pleading for change from passers-by.   
He could see the businessmen and woman hurrying along as they talked on their phones, clutched their briefcases and bags tight to them to avoid being mugged. 

The Schoolkids with their bright smiles moving in groups and avoiding the poor shy ones who didn’t have the same expensive accessories that they did.   
The gang members driving past in their supped up cars, scars on their faces, heavy weaponry just out of sight as they patrolled their territory.   
Coppers beating information out of street kids, taking bribes, and destroying evidence. 

 

This estate was a world away from all of that, there was no noise here, no smell of fast food, alcohol, sweat, and urine that always seemed to cling to everything in the streets even more than the exhaust fumes did, and they were bad enough.   
Out here it was quiet, the air was clear and fresh, it was calm and peaceful. 

d’Artagnan could if he allowed himself to, become very relaxed here. He’d almost done so a few times, like today when he spoke to Athos about his Father. But he knew better, knew he couldn’t risk getting attached to anyone, it was always a bad idea, it only led to sorrow and he’d had enough of that in his life. 

Jumping down onto the main roof he ran across, heedless of the perilous drop as he made his way to the chimney and climbed on top to stand up straight looking out across the land. 

When he was done with this, when he had testified and they had enough money to leave he’d take Porthos and Aramis and go and find somewhere quiet for them to live, maybe somewhere in the country where there wasn’t anyone else, someplace that he could have a roof like this to look out from and be alone. 

After all, whatever happened, they could never go back to the city now.


	16. Chapter 16

After Athos left on his business trip and Anne to go to her wedding dress fitting and whatever else she planned to do while her Fiancé was away, d’Artagnan mooched about the house in a melancholic sulk. 

He couldn’t settle anywhere, couldn’t find anything to do to distract himself, just found himself pacing the floors and literally climbing the walls! 

He didn’t know why he was feeling so restless and out of sorts. Correction, he did know why, he just didn’t know what to do about it. 

He knew that he liked Athos, more than liked him. He was deeply attracted to the man and it was driving him mad!

He couldn’t think about anything but Athos, about the sound of his voice, low and husky as if he smoked too much, though he did not smoke at all. The spicy scent of his cologne mingling with whiskey (Though lately that had become less frequent than before), the way the light caught his hair and turned it slightly golden, giving Athos’s skin a warm glow.   
The way his eyes changed colour depending on his mood, when he was depressive they were a slate grey with only the slightest hint of blue, when he was cheerful they were a brilliant sky blue and shone with vibrance. 

He loved looking at Athos’ eyes, watching the laugh lines about them crinkle as he smiled, seeing them dance with enjoyment when he was happy. He thought he could get lost in Athos’ eyes, could quite happily spend the rest of his life staring into them and seeing them light up with happiness that he gave Athos. 

 

As he pondered this d’Artagnan quickly reasoned that being in love with someone totally sucked!

If it made you unable to do anything but think about the person you were attracted to, made you feel so crappy when you weren’t around said person then why would anyone want to experience it?

 

The biggest problem of course, was that he had no idea what he was supposed to do. 

From what he’d seen on the streets people just started kissing, or fucking and that was it. 

But somehow he didn’t think that was quite the right way to go with Athos, he thought that the man might react badly if he did something like that, and in all honesty d’Artagnan had no idea how to go about kissing some with tongues and such, didn’t tongues get in the way? Did people really like shoving them in each other’s mouths like that? 

As for fucking Athos, well d’Artagnan was completely unable to think of a good approach for that. 

He knew how it worked between two men, what would be inserted and where, but how they initiated it he didn’t know. 

Was he just meant to take his pants down and bend over for Athos, or was he meant to kiss him first and touch him a lot like people in movies did it? 

 

Figuring that he wasn’t going to be able to do anything but think about Athos, d’Artagnan went to find the lap top that he, Porthos, and Aramis had been given by Athos and went on line to search out seduction and sex techniques. 

An hour later, with his face bright red, and mind boggling from some of what he’d seen on line, he went to Porthos and Aramis’s room and slumped down in the chair beside their bed looking woeful. 

“Something wrong?” Aramis asked looking up from a novel he was reading, Porthos was playing a video game, Athos had installed PS4 for him to enjoy on the TV and Porthos was currently enjoying Call of Duty, but as Aramis spoke he set the controller down and turned to look at d’Artagnan. 

“How do you get someone to have sex with you!?” d’Artagnan asked in a small voice, his cheeks as red as cherries and eyes anywhere but on Aramis and Porthos

“How do you what?” Aramis asked looking at d’Artagnan in complete shock 

d’Artagnan slumped lower in his chair and rolled his lips, “I think I like Athos and I want to fuck with him like you guys do, but I don’t know how you go about getting someone to fuck you!”

Aramis and Porthos exchanged bewildered glances and took deep breaths before Aramis rose to his feet and went round the bed to stand in front of d’Artagnan who gazed up at him with large puppy dog eyes that made Aramis rolled his own eyes and haul d’Artagnan up and shove him over to the bed where he was grabbed under the arms by Porthos and dragged up onto the bed and held in place by Porthos who cuddled him to his side like d’Artagnan was a favourite teddy bear! 

“Get off me!” d’Artagnan grumbled making a half hearted attempt at escaping Porthos’s grasp 

“Nope brat,” Porthos said holding d’Artagnan close, “Its time we had a talk about the facts of life with you!”

d’Artagnan made a sound like a dying duck and buried his face in Porthos’ side 

“I’ll find us something to drink!” Aramis said, “We’ll definitely need it!”

“I hate you both!” d’Artagnan cried his voice muffled by Porthos’ side 

“Get some chips while you’re at it pet” Porthos said ruffling d’Artagnan’s hair “And maybe some chocolate, that’s supposed to help make you feel better when you’re heart sick!”

“Fuck you!” d’Artagnan howled 

“No thanks kid, but I think we can help you get Athos into bed!” Porthos laughed.

 

 

*****

 

Athos sighed in utter boredom as he sat at the head of the long board room table, and wasn’t that a good name for it, Bored room! 

Athos knew he should be paying attention, this was a big deal for his company and he should be getting involved in this, should be listening to what his managing directors were saying and putting in his own view points. 

But he couldn’t concentrate on the endless monologue coming from the boring old fart that was yammering on and on!

His mind kept on drifting back to d’Artagnan, to how much he was missing him. 

He kept on imagining d’Artagnan here at this seemingly endless meeting, making sarcastic comments, slouching in his chair with his feet up on the table or sitting on the table swinging his legs to the horror of these boring bastards.

“And what are your views on this Mr La Fare?” 

Athos was startled out of his little day dream of d’Artagnan snickering at the man two seats down from him who looked like he was sucking on a lemon!

“I err,” he sat up and looked down at the documents before him trying to figure out what the man was talking about!

“I think the proposal is a very good idea” one of the board said, “Rochefort is a certain of Mayor come next election, if we show our support now we can guarantee that he will endorse the company once he is a mayor”

“Rochefort” Athos murmured, he frowned as he recalled d’Artagnan mentioning something about Rochefort when he was speaking to Porthos and Aramis, Athos hadn’t been involved in the conversation, had simply over heard them when he was passing by the make shift bed room. 

“I’m not sure” he said slowly, he couldn’t say why, since the conversation could have been completely innocent, hell they could have been speaking in praise for Rochefort for all Athos knew, but on the reverse side of that Rochefort could be involved in something shady. 

“I would rather sleep on this and get back to you on it” he said finally and resolved to try and pay better attention, and to phone d’Artagnan as soon as he could and ask him about Rochefort, if the man was up to no good then Athos certainly wouldn’t be helping him win his election, the last thing the world needed was another corrupt politician and Athos wasn’t going to let La Fare industries help prop up another one. 

 

***** 

 

Milady sighed and shifted her weight from her left hip to her right as she stood on a stool before the three way mirror in the bridal shop where she was getting her dress fitted.

“Will this take much longer?” she asked and let out a huff as the bodice was pulled tighter, “And do try not to break my ribs!”

“Sorry Madam” the tailor said looking checking the sizes and pinning the bodice, “How does that feel Madam?”

“Like breathing is an optional extra!” Milady snorted with a roll of her eyes, “I’m not planning on starving myself for my wedding I want this dress to fit my body as it is now, not to change myself to fit it, and considering what my Husband is paying you, I should think you should do as I ask” 

The Tailor grit her teeth and kept a smile on her face on because she was very use to dealing with uppity socialites being demanding divas. She carefully checked the train and skirt making a note to raise the hem slightly so Milady wouldn’t trip. 

“Looking forward to your big day?” she asked 

“What concern is that of yours?” Milady replied not in the mood to make polite conversation, she just wanted to get this done and get home so she could get rid of her “House guests” once and for all. 

Biting her tongue and resisting the urge to stick pins into Milady’s calf, the tailor continued her work in silence while Milady admired her reflection in the mirror. By the time she finished here d’Artagnan, Aramis, and Porthos should all be unconscious and completely at her mercy.

Once there she’d force feed d’Artagnan more pills and alcohol and slit his wrists open, a suicide, or so it would seem. 

Aramis and Porthos she’d dispose of and make it seem that they’d done a runner with some of the house hold items that could be easily sold. 

The police, being as stupid as they were, would simply believe Aramis and Porthos had abandoned d’Artagnan and the little brat had topped himself as the result. 

Getting rid of the blood staining after would be a bother but at least she and Athos could afford to replace the carpet!

The only difficult part would be dragging Aramis and Porthos to the car, but she’d manage it, she had to manage it, she could not afford to fail because if she did she would lose everything.


	17. Chapter 17

D’Artagnan let out a groan and reached for the bottle of tequila that Aramis had brought into the room along with the chips and dip. 

He couldn’t remember ever being so embarrassed in his life!

Aramis and Porthos had gone into explicit detail of how to woo a lover, Aramis had even demonstrated certain things that had d’Artagnan’s cheeks crimson!

“Oh and when you kiss him for the first time remember to take it slow to begin with,” Aramis said, “And to stop after a second and look up at him with a nervous look in your eyes, as if you are uncertain that you’re doing it right and want reassurance, that is guaranteed to pull on his heart strings!”

“And use a bit of tongue when you start up again!” Porthos encouraged, “Just run it over his lips and teeth at first, let him get a feel for what you’re offering, then go in for a real snog!”

“God I hate you both!” d’Artagnan cried taking another mouthful of tequila, pulled a face at the taste then buried his head in his arms 

“And always remember to use a condom!” Aramis stressed taking wicked delight in the pained squawk that brought from the teenager, “And plenty of lube, you’ll be sore as hell if you don’t use enough lube!”

“Shut up!” d’Artagnan cried wrapping his arms over his head 

Porthos snorted with laughter and took a gulp of the tequila before handing the bottle to Aramis, he let out a yawn and settled back against the pillows feeling sleepy 

“Good stuff this,” he said, “Goin’ right t’my ‘ead!” 

“Only thing that is in your head then!” d’Artagnan grumbled rolling over onto his side and curling up in a ball like a kitten, he too yawned tiredly and gazed at his brothers through thick lashes that were hanging low on his eyelids that were rapidly sliding shut 

“Looks like someone needs a nap!” Porthos stage whispered to Aramis who grinned and then yawned himself 

“He’s not the only one,” he said taking another drink of tequila and handed the bottle back to Porthos, he climbed onto the bed and settled down against his boyfriend, “I’m knackered babe!”

“It’s this boozin’ durin’ the day,” Porthos said screwing the cap back onto the bottle, “Hard stuff knocking us out, ‘ave to save it for later”

“Uh huh” Aramis mumbled, his words coming out slurred as he followed after d’Artagnan into sleep.   
Porthos snickered at the pair and rolled his eyes, “Couple o’light weights!”, he leaned over as far as he could and set the bottle on the floor by the bed, as he set back up his head spun and flashes of light burst before his eyes as if he had risen too fast

“Can’t be pissed!” he mumbled to himself, his speech distorted and words coming out too slow, “Ain’t possible, we ain’t drunk near enough!”

The room swirled before Porthos’s eyes, dizziness and overwhelming sleepiness spreading through his body, making his limbs feel leaden and his head ridiculously light. 

Aramis and d’Artagnan were already unconscious, sleeping heavily besides Porthos as he struggled to keep his eyes open in an attempt to figure this out. 

 

They had barely consumed a quarter of the bottle between them, that was maybe three shots each, they shouldn’t be so drunk after that, not so drunk that they were falling asleep like this. 

There was only one explanation for this, they’d been drugged!

Porthos let out a groan and tried again to move, but it was impossible, try as he might he couldn’t fight the overwhelming exhaustion, and all too soon he was joining his lover and little brother in a drugged sleep. 

 

 

*****

 

To Athos’ immense relief the dinner he had been going to endure/enjoy that night was cancelled. 

Pipes burst in the reception hall at the hotel they had been going to have the dinner at and had flooded the room rendering it completely unusable.   
As the hotel had other functions booked they had no other suites available, so the dinner was cancelled with the threat/promise of it being done at a later date!

 

Trying and failing to hide his smile, Athos happily repacked his suitcase and headed down to his car to go home. 

He hadn’t been looking forward to the evening, making polite conversation with socialites and businessmen, picking at over priced, over fancy foods that he didn’t enjoy in the least, drinking champagne when he’d rather have a glass of wine or a glass of scotch, and missing d’Artagnan. 

He’d been missing d’Artagnan all day, admitted it to himself completely now. 

Engaged or not he did have feelings for d’Artagnan, feelings he was going to have acknowledge completely, He couldn’t marry Anne when he had feelings for d’Artagnan, it would be wrong to lead her on like that, to say that he was willing to forsake all others when he had deep feeling for someone else. 

It would hurt, hurt them both, but it would be better to hurt her now when she could still walk away easily than to do so several months down the line, or worse, years from now when they had a child or two. 

Turning on his phones headset he called home and left a message on the answer machine to let everyone know that he’d be home after all. 

He figured Anne was still out, and that Aramis, Porthos, and d’Artagnan had gone for a walk about the estate. Porthos was getting on better with his crutches as liked to get some fresh air ever so often now that he was a bit more mobile. 

Turning on the car’s audio system he turned on his playlist and grinned as Freddie Mercury began to croon the lyrics to “Don’t stop me now!”   
D’Artagnan as it turned out liked Queen, his favourite song being Bohemian Rhapsody. 

Loosening his tie Athos relaxed in the seat and added a little more speed to the car, keen now to get home. 

 

***** 

 

The house was silent when Milady came in. For once there were no loud action movies or vulgar comedies playing on the TV, or sounds of video games, or music screaming out from sound systems. 

Just the peaceful quiet that she had missed. 

Well, she wouldn’t be missing it anymore, because her unwanted house guests would soon be gone. 

 

She confidently made her way to the parlour, a luggage trolley wheeling alone behind her, which she had brought with her from her garage so she could move Aramis and Porthos’ bodies with ease. 

Pushing open the door she looked in the room and smiled. 

All three men lay on the bed unconscious, on the floor was a bottle of tequila that she had not drugged but would have worked with the diazepam to render then unconscious, three cans of Dr Pepper lay empty on the bed, and a mostly empty bag of chips were beside a tub of dip, all of which had been drugged. 

 

“You made this too easy for me!” she said stepping into the room and bringing the trolley with her. 

She chose to move Aramis. While he was a slim young man he was heavy to Milady and she struggled moving him down from the bed and onto the trolley, she also had the hassle of support his weight while she wrapped the support belts about him to keep him held secure to the trolley. 

Sweating and irritated she scowled as she tilted the trolley back and began wheeling him out to the car. 

Hauling him up and into the trunk was another exertion and by the time she was done her neck was killing her and she had Porthos to move. 

“I’m going to need a damn good massage after this!” she muttered to herself going back into the house. 

If she had thought shifting Aramis was difficult then shifting Porthos was a nightmare. He was almost twice as heavy as Aramis and much broader making it far more difficult for her to move his body about. 

Somehow she managed it, panting heavily as she wheeled him out to the car and began to arduous task of lifting him off the trolley and into the trunk. 

“Mis?” he groaned, his eyelids fluttering and eyes rolling, Milady froze for a moment, fearful that he was waking up, but a snore followed this and she rolled her eyes, sleep talking. 

With grunt she put her knee into the small of Porthos’ back and shoved him in the trunk and brought the lid down hard. 

 

Bracing herself for a few moments on the boot Milady caught her breath before she went back into the house. 

Into a plastic bag she placed all the drugged food and drink to be disposed of, and gathered a few easily sold but expensive items to make it look like Aramis and Porthos had robbed the place before leaving. 

She then slipped on a pair of latex gloves and found a pen and paper to write a suicide note from d’Artagnan which she placed on the bed beside the boy while stretching out his body.

d’Artagnan groaned in protest at being moved. 

“Come on now little Charles,” Milady sneered opening his mouth “Time for another drink”

In a glass she mixed crushed sleeping tablet and painkillers which she mixed with tequila and stirred together, taking d’Artagnan’s hand she wrapped it about the glass to get his prints on it and guided it to his open mouth, tipping the contents down his throat. 

d’Artagnan sputtered and gagged on the drink prompting Milady to lift his head so he could swallow without choking, she didn’t stop until the whole glass was drunk, then carefully replaced it on the beside table. 

Taking up a seven inch knife she had taken from the block in the kitchen she lifted d’Artagnan’s limp right hand and wrapped it about the handle to get prints on it, then let his hand fall away and lifted his left arm. 

“I’d rather cut your throat and slash your eyes out you little pest!” she spat at him, “But sadly that would raise to many questions, so your wrists will have to suffice”

Digging the blade into the flesh at the base of d’Artagnan’s hand Milady pulled the knife down d’Artagnan’s wrist towards his elbow releasing a torrent of blood…


	18. Chapter 18

Parking his car, Athos got out swinging the keys on his forefinger and whistling a tune as he went to the boot and took out his over night bag. 

Seeing Anne’s car in the drive his smile faltered a little, he wasn’t looking forward to this discussion but he knew it had to be done. 

“Best to get it over with,” he said to himself heading into the house, he frowned when he saw the trolley in the hall but figured that Anne had bought something home that needed to be moved on something like that. 

“Hey, I’m home!” he called out taking off his coat and heading through the house, “Dinner got cancelled, anyone want to order Pizza?”, he walked through the house, heading to the parlour where he suspected that d’Artagnan would be and was surprised when Anne came out of the room wiping her face on a handkerchief 

“Is everything alright?” he asked with a frown 

“Fine,” she replied, but her voice sounded strained and she seemed agitated, also, why was it so quiet?

“Are they alright?” Athos asked feeling strangely concerned 

“Them?” Anne turned her head to look at the parlour and Athos gasped, down the far side of her face was blood a thick streak of blood!

“Anne your face!” he cried 

Anne frowned and lifted her hand to touch her face, if it had been her blood she’d have winced in pain from touching a wound, but there was no wound on her, no wound on her which meant the blood came from someone else!

 

Without even thinking about what he was doing Athos shoved past Anne and tore into the parlour where a scene straight out of hell met his eyes.

 

d’Artagnan was laying on the bed in a pool of his own blood which had splattered the ceiling from arterial spray! Both of his wrists were sliced open from wrist to elbow! A kitchen knife lay at his side soaked in blood, on the floor lay a bottle of tequila that was half empty, and packets of pills lay strewn about the bed and a suicide letter was laying on the pillow!

“d’Artagnan!” Athos cried ripping off his shirt, popping all the buttons and not caring at all, he ripped the shirt in half and began to wrap the material about d’Artagnan’s wrists in an effort to stop the bleeding, “Anne call an ambulance!” he shouted, “Anne..” he turned his head and was hit across the face with the table lamp!

Slumping to the floor Athos groaned, his head was throbbing and a wave of dizziness and nausea rolled over him. Through blurred vision he saw Anne standing over him, her face twisted into something horrid and ugly, 

“I hoped I wouldn’t have to do it this way!” she said to him, “I was going to be gentle with you, when I killed you I was going to do it painlessly, now I don’t have that luxury, and neither do you”

She raised a the lamp over her head and began to bring it down…

 

*****

 

“Mis, Mis wake up!” 

Aramis woke with a thumping headache, a dry and foul tasting mouth in a cramped and dark space with Porthos on top of him!

“Wha…?” 

“We’ve been drugged pet!” Porthos said, “I think we’re in a trunk, we have to get out of here”

“Drugged, by who?” Aramis cried shaking his head and regretting it when the action made it hurt all the more 

“I don’t know, but d’Art isn’t with us!” Porthos said, “Now try and focus pet and let’s get the fuck out of here!”.

 

Together Aramis and Porthos kicked and punched at the trunk lid until the lock finally gave out under their combined assault and they were able to get it open. Pushing the lid open all the way they sat up blinking in the light that suddenly hit their eyes and looked around seeing where they were. 

“We’re still at the mansion” Aramis said looking confused

“Yeah, but where’s d’Art?” Porthos asked 

“I don’t know, but I’m going to find out!”

Scrambling up Aramis climbed out of the car and put his arms out for Porthos to use to support himself so he could climb out too, it was a struggle to support Porthos’s greater weight as he carried him towards the mansion but somehow Aramis managed it, getting Porthos to the steps that led up to the mansion front door where he set him down,   
“Wait here, I’m going in to find d’Art”

“I’m coming with you!” 

“No Port’,” Aramis said, “I need to move fast and you can’t walk, I hate to say it but right now you would slow me down”

Porthos grunted and grit his teeth knowing this was true, however, knowing it and liking it were two different things, and he most certainly didn’t like it. 

“I’ll be right back,” Aramis said pressing a kiss to Porthos cheek and then cringed, “Dear God let this not be a horror movie setting!” he murmured. 

 

Going into the house Aramis nearly fell over Athos’s over night bag and a trolley that had been dumped in the hallway. 

“What the fuck?” he asked hurrying through the house to the parlour, he burst into the room where he found d’Artagnan unconscious on the bed in a pool of blood, Athos on the floor with a head injury and Anne standing over him a lamp raised above her head ready to strike!

“NO!” Aramis roared lunging forward, he caught Anne about the waist throwing them both down onto the ground, the lamp fell from her hand and shattered on the floor, “Crazy bitch!” he snarled sitting up and balled a fist ready to punch her but he found himself being clocked in the face and flipped off Anne’s body to land flat on his back with the wind knocked out of him! 

“Damn you!” Anne snarled getting to her feet, “Why couldn’t you and that oaf just stay asleep?”, she picked up the bloody kitchen knife from the bed and lunged at Aramis aiming for his eyes!

“No!” Aramis yelped bringing his arms up to defend his face, he let out a scream as the blade sliced through his forearm, grunting Anne pulled the blade back and straddled Aramis, forcing his arms above his head and raised the blade again 

“Just hold still and die!” she spat bringing it down

Aramis screwed his eyes shut preparing to feel the agony of the knife sink into him, but the blow never came as suddenly Anne was lifted off his body!

Athos had regained his senses and acted, grabbing Anne about the waist he hauled her up and off Aramis dragging them both backwards 

“Oh let me go you fool!” she screamed kicking him in the shins, Athos stumbled but didn’t let go, snarling she sunk the knife into Athos’s thigh making him howl in pain and fall to the ground, “You’re pathetic Athos!” she spat yanking the knife and whirling on him slicing open his left palm as he raised his hand to try and defend himself, “You are nothing!” she screamed at him, “Useless, worthless, degenerate trash, the only good thing about you is your money and once I’m through here I’ll take as much of it as I can!” she plunged the knife into Athos chest, just missing his heart as Athos moved enough to prevent it, the knife lodged in between his ribs and broke plugging the wound and making the blade useless 

“Damn it!” Anne snapped and wrapped her hands about Athos’s throat squeezing, “If at first you don’t succeed…” a shattering of wood followed and Anne slumped over unconscious.

Coughing and spluttering Athos looked up to see Aramis standing above him clutching a broken chair, “Try, try again!” he said finishing Anne’s statement, then shrugged, “Or you know, just cheat!” 

A small smile curved Athos’s lips then remembered d’Artagnan, “Call and ambulance,” he barked shoving Anne off his body and staggered to the bed, reaching out he pressed his fingers to d’Artagnan’s throat and found a weak pulse, “Hold on little one,” he whispered, “Just hold on!”


	19. Chapter 19

As Aramis tore off to call and ambulance, Athos pressed a hand over the wound to his thigh which was gushing blood. 

He felt light headed and giddy from the blood loss he’d already suffered, and probable concussion, how d’Artagnan must be feeling with the amount of blood he’d lost Athos couldn’t imagine. 

d’Artagnan’s skin was looking worryingly grey and there was a blue tinge to his lips and nose

Taking his hand off his thigh for a minute Athos grabbed the duvet that was already blood soaked and pushed the thick material over d’Artagnan’s arms to help stop the bleeding. 

The movement caused the empty pill packets to fall to the carpet and Athos felt his stomach lurch. 

Anne had poisoned him, on top of the immense blood loss d’Artagnan was overdosed, the toxins in his stomach were actively killing him along with the blood loss. 

 

He should make him sick! Athos thought wildly, that was what you did when some ingested something dangerous, you made them vomit it up, caster oil and mustard, salt water, they would made d’Artagnan purge. 

But in his weakened state what if his body couldn’t handle it? 

Athos was hesitant to do anything without a Doctor’s presence to guide him. In the hospital they’d be able to pump d’Artagnan’s stomach wouldn’t they?

But would he get to the hospital on time? 

 

“The ambulance is on its way” Aramis said helping Porthos into the room, the larger man looked ashen, his fear over his lover’s injuries and d’Artagnan’s clear to see on his normally grumpy features

“I knew we should’a jus’ run when we ‘ad the chance!” he grunted sitting heavily down on the side of the bed 

Athos flushed and ducked his head, he felt ashamed, his actions had caused this, he’d insisted on telling Treville about d’Artagnan, had painted a target on the kid’s head, if he’d just let d’Artagnan go when he’d asked then none of this would have happened. 

 

“We better tie the bitch up” Aramis said taking the sashes from the curtains, he meant the still unconscious Anne of course

“Jus’ snap ‘er neck!” Porthos said, “Ain’t like anyone’s gonna miss ‘er!” 

“NO!” Athos snapped surprising himself with the sudden vehemence in his tone

Aramis and Porthos both paused, looking at him, Porthos sneered 

“Fuck me! Don’t tell me after all this shit you’re still in love with ‘er?”

“No!” Athos said shaking his head, “Its not that, its…there has been enough blood shed already, more won’t make this right, let the police handle her, lets do this right”

“Yeah, cause involving the pigs always works out well!” Porthos sneered his voice dripping with sarcasm 

“This time it will,” Athos said, “I’ll make sure of it”.

 

*****

 

Treville arrived shortly after the ambulances, just in time to see d’Artagnan being carried out on a stretcher and put into the back of one of the ambulances which took off at full speed, siren screaming and lights blazing. 

“You have no right to hold me prisoner!” came a furious sounding shriek from in the parlour which Treville and the two uniformed officers with him went to. 

In the blood soaked and trashed room Anne was sat bound to the bed by his wrists, her normally immaculate clothing torn and blood splattered, her make-up a mess, blood streaking her face, and matting her hair. 

She had wildness in her eyes that Treville had never seen before, a feral brutality he had not seen on her face. 

 

“Shut the fuck up bitch or I’m gonna rip you’re damn tongue out!” Porthos snarled at her, watching intently as a paramedic patched up Aramis’s slashed open arm enough for him to go to hospital and get stitches. 

Athos was sat in a chair having his leg bandaged until it could be stitched, and a knife wound to his chest which had part of a blade sticking out of it was being examined and carefully wrapped in a dressing to secure it for transport to the hospital. 

 

“What in Gods name happened here?” Treville asked in utter shock 

Porthos snorted and just looked away in disgust 

Aramis glared at Trevilled, “Psycho bitch there tried to friggin’ kill us, is what happened, pissin’ culprit for everythin’ was under your nose all this time and you were too stupid to see it!”

“What?” Treville asked looking at Anne and then to Athos 

“She killed Thomas” Athos whispered, he looked tired and sick, like his whole life and everything he had believed in had just been stripped away from him, “She did it all, was planning to kill me right from the start!”

Anne chose that opportunity to sink the knife she had already struck into Athos’s back a little deeper, “And why shouldn’t I?” she sneered, “You are nothing but a degenerate waste of space on this planet, a worthless drunken excuse for a man that the world would be better off without!”

Athos cringed and seemed to shrink in on himself at the bile Anne was spewing at him 

Treville had heard enough. 

“Arrest her,” he said to the officers beside him, “On charges of murder, attempted murder, assault with a deadly weapon, criminal intent to cause harm, grievous bodily harm…”

“Attempted kidnap!” Aramis piped up, “She had me and Port’ drugged and tossed into the boot of her car!”

“Attempted kidnap,” Treville added, “And anything else you can think up!”

“Screw you!” Anne snarled as she was pulled to her feet, “I want a fucking lawyer!”, she hissed in pain as her wrists were twisted behind her back and the cuffs put on, “I’ll be cataloguing every bruise I get!” she warned and the officer grinned at her

“In that case I’ll make sure to give you plenty!”, he shoved her forward and his colleague caught her by the shoulders and marched her from the room.  
“Give her a slappin’ from me will yer?” Porthos called after them, “Crazy bitch!”  
Treville ignored him and moved to stand beside Athos, “This isn’t your fault Athos” he said, “We didn’t know, none of us knew”

“Thomas did” Athos murmured morosely, “He suspected, always suspected something was wrong with her, told me often enough not to trust her, if I had listened to him then he wouldn’t..”

“Hey no!” Aramis protested, “Don’t blame yourself, you ain’t to blame for this, that bitch is, blame her!”

Athos shook his head, his eyes wet with unshed tears, “I brought her here, I brought her into our lives, she might be guilty of his murder but I’m guilty of letting it happen, and I will never forgive myself for that”.

 

*****

Sat in the police car Milady was thinking frantically. 

She was screwed, completely and totally screwed. 

Once her finger prints were taken her criminal record would come to light, unsolved murders would be connected to her, along with a grocery list of other crimes. 

She’d be facing life imprisonment, if not the death penalty. 

Rochefort wouldn’t help her, he’d wash his hands of her now, if not arrange her death himself. 

If she was to survive, if she was going to find a way to ever see the outside of a prison cell again she would have to make a deal with the police. 

She’d work out something with her lawyer, would turn states evidence against Rochefort in return for a lesser sentence and early release. 

Of course she’d have to serve time, she knew that, but maybe she could be out in five years? Then, when she was, she’d find a way to disappear, change her appearance and name again, reinvent herself, and live out the rest of her life somewhere quiet and out of the way. 

Still, she was going to have to hope that Treville could arrange protection for her from Rochefort. Once she turned evidence against him her days would be numbered ad he had half the police force in his pocket. 

However, she did know how to take care of herself, and she certainly had no qualms about killing a few police if she had to. 

 

When they got to the station she calmly allowed her fingerprints to be taken, and a swab of DNA from her mouth, her clothes stripped from her, and dressed in the cheap paper suit, letting herself be lead to her cell. 

“A lawyer’s been arranged for you,” the officer told her, “He’ll be here soon”

“Fine” Milady replied taking a seat on the bunk, and began to examine her finger nails with an air of boredom about her, she might be scared but she was damned if she was going to show it!

 

When the Lawyer arrived, a Mr Chester, Milady wasted no time in making her position clear to him. 

“I’ll admit to everything, I’ll give evidence against Rochefort, but I want a deal, a lesser sentence, early release, and protection.”


	20. Chapter 20

D’Artagnan was in full arrest when the paramedics got him to the hospital. 

He was rushed straight into the emergency trauma unit where the Doctors began to administer CPR and pump his body with drugs to counter act the ones already in his system. Both his arms were in tourniquets from above the elbow, this was of course being timed, more than an hour without blood supply and he’d loose the limbs. 

Orders for his bloods to be cross matched and to have transfusions set up were barked out, along with orders for a full stomach pump. 

d’Artagnan’s was shocked three times, his body arching off the bed with the electric jolt that ran through his system until his heart began to beat again, a slow and weak but regular beat. 

“That’ll pick up once we get some blood back into him,” one of the Doctors said, “Lets run his gasses and a full blood panel, and get the stomach pump, I want those drugs out of his system before they hit his liver!”. 

 

It was probably fortunate for d’Artagnan that he was unconscious while his stomach was being pumped. The procedure was not pleasant in the least and took quite a while before the Doctor’s were certain that all of the drugs were out of his system. 

His arms took a lot of stitching, thirty stitches in the left and forty two in the right to close the wounds. They were then bound in bandages to keep the stitches safe and clean. 

He had lost nearly three litres of blood and required two transfusions to replace them. 

By the time the Doctors had finished treating him Treville had arrived at the hospital with further police officers whom he insisted be placed on guard outside the recovery room d’Artagnan was placed in for observation. 

There was a moment of difficulty when the Doctors wanted to place d’Artagnan on the psychiatric unit, thinking this had been a suicide attempts, but Treville explained that it had not and d’Artagnan was not a risk of harming himself. 

 

“The boy is not to be left unmonitored for a single moment!” he instructed the officers, “And you be sure to check the ID of any Doctor or Nurse who wants to go into his room or you’ll be finishing your career as traffic cops!”

Both officers looked suitably appalled by this threat and determined not to leave their posts lest they face Treville’s wrath. 

 

Meanwhile Aramis had been taken into the emergency department and was having stitches put into his arm while Athos was being taken to theatre to have the knife removed from between his ribs. 

He had been lucky that the blade had stuck there and not gone any deeper, if it had then it would have gone through his heart and killed him. 

Whether or not Athos would think himself lucky to have survived remained to be seen. 

 

“How are you?” Treville asked Aramis 

“Good enough,” Aramis replied, “So far I’ve had twenty stitches put in” he turned his gaze from Treville and looked down at his arm where it was being stitched, “Is there any news on D’Art?” 

His concerned tone brought a smile to Treville’s face, “He’s been taken to recovery, they’ve given him a transfusion and pumped his stomach…”

“Is he alright?” Aramised demanded cutting Treville off 

Treville sighed and took a seat on the plastic chair beside Aramis’s bed, “I don’t know,” he admitted, “The Doctor said that his heart stopped for a while, they had to revive him. They won’t know if there are complications until he regains consciousness”

Aramis bit his bottom lip and looked back to his arm. “He isn’t twenty yet” he murmured, “You know how he ended up on the streets Hmm?” he asked looking at Treville, “Because some bastards murdered his Father. Then he got dumped in care, which is a bollocks name because no one fucking cares! and from there he ended up on the streets surviving as a thief” 

“I know,” Treville whispered, “He was twelve” 

“Yeah, twelve, a fucking child on his own having to survive. Most people would have had their humanity stripped from them by such a situation, but somehow he has retained his, has kept his humanity, his empathy, his compassion. That was why he went to Athos in the first place!” Aramis scoffed a laugh that had no humour and shook his head, “He is so compassionate, so soft hearted despite his brash exterior that he couldn’t keep what he knew to himself, he had to go to Athos and tell him what he’d seen”

“And his doing so is very much appreciated,” Treville said, “His bravery will not be forgotten, I can promise you that”

“Oh fuck his bravery!” Aramis cried, “I don’t care about your appreciation, or your pride, all I care is whether or not you can actually get your fingers out your ass and keep him safe!” 

 

Under other circumstances Treville might have taken offence at Aramis’s words, but under these circumstances he was more than prepared to eat a little humble pie. 

“I mean it Detective Treville!” Aramis stated, “If you can’t keep the closest thing I have and will ever have to a Son safe from further harm, then I swear to God I will take him as far from this shit hole of a city as I can get and you will never see him again, justice be damned!”

There was a steely determination in Aramis’s eyes. Porthos might appear to be the stronger one of the two, was probably the one who made most of the decisions on a day to day basis, but right now Treville was certain that when it came to major choices and decisions it was Aramis who wore the trousers and not Porthos. 

There was a fiery strength hidden under Aramis’s romantic charm. He might sell himself to put food in his mouth but he was no down trodden rent boy, he knew his own mind and he was not afraid to speak it. 

 

“I have failed you so far” Treville admitted, “I didn’t see that there was an enemy right under my nose, but now that she has revealed her true colours I will ensure that nothing like this happens again. Only those officers I know I can trust will be on guard duty, and I will personally check in everyday to see that you are all well”

Aramis sighed and nodded his head, his expression softening, “Porthos won’t be pleasant to you for a long time” he cautioned, “He’ll blame you for all this, you’ll have to brace yourself for animosity from him”

Treville smirked, “I’m a cop, I’m use to animosity!”

“Goes with the job?” Aramis asked with a grin  
“That it does!” Treville said returning the smile and feeling some of the tension he’d been holding leave his body.

 

*****

 

Police Station 

 

Milady was not in the least bit happy about being kept waiting for hours before Treville deigned to see her. 

She was also not given any fresh clothes, but made to remain in the paper jump suit to go into the interview room where she was cuffed to the table to prevent her from being able to do harm to herself or others. 

“Do you think I will re-enact Silence of the Lambs?” she asked Treville raising a perfectly plucked eyebrow at him 

Treville gave her a cold look, “You have landed three men in hospital, two of which had life threatening injuries, and since running your prints we have been able to link you to more than twenty deaths over the past ten years, not to mention, maiming’s and thefts on top of that. So it not so much what I think you will do as what I know you are capable of”

Milady was not surprised to hear that her past had been uncovered, well, some of it anyway. There was more, much more, but Treville already knew enough to see her spend her life in prison. 

Looking to her lawyer she nodded her head to him and then looked down at her ink stained nails which were broken, her manicure completely ruined, she frowned at that and at the state her hair was in, longing for a brush and a nail file to at least help sort out some of the damage. A shower too would be well appreciated. 

“My client Milady de Winter…”

“Ah, excuse me!” Treville cut in, “I believe her name is actually Charlotte Brackson, not Anne de Bruiel or Milady de Winter, nor in fact Madame de la Chapel”

Milady narrowed her eyes and raised them to Treville who had a smug smirk on his face, clearly pleased with what he’d uncovered so far

“Milady de Winter is the name I have used for quite some time, and is one I would prefer to use” 

Treville shrugged, “Very well, Milady de Winter then”

“As I was saying,” The Lawyer went on, “My client would like to make a deal”

Treville sat back in his seat and folded his arms over his chest, “Would she now?” he asked “And just what does she have to offer?” 

“Rochefort” Milady replied before the Lawyer could speak, “Get me a deal, the shortest prison sentence you can arrange, protection from Rochefort and his friends, and a guarantee of early parole and a new identity when I am released. If you do that then I will give you Rochefort”

 

Treville sighed heavily, he wanted to tell her to go to hell. He wanted to call her bluff, to argue that she deserved life imprisonment because she damn well did! But he knew that he couldn’t afford to turn this offer down. Rochefort was too powerful to ignore. If he got office as he wanted then he would have unlimited power, any hope of sorting out the crime in the City would disappear and Treville might as well throw the towel in right now!

So as distasteful as he found it, as guilty as this made him feel he knew he had to accept the offer and make a deal. 

Well, go to a judge with the offer so the deal would be made from there. 

“Alright,” he said at length and looked to the lawyer, “Give me something I can take to a judge and I’ll set the ball rolling”

Now it was Milady’s turn to look smug and she sat back in the chair a small smile playing on her lips as the smallest amount of dirt she had on Rochefort was given out.


	21. Chapter 21

For simplicity on guarding them, Athos and d’Artagnan were moved into the same hospital room to recovery from their injuries. 

Aramis insisted on going to sit at d’Artagnan’s bedside, and shortly thereafter Porthos joined him, having “Borrowed” the money from one of Athos’s jacket pockets to pay the taxi he used to get to the hospital!

 

“I hate seeing him like this,” Porthos said as he sat, cramped in the too small plastic hospital chair, “He’s too still, d’Arts always so twitchy you know?” 

Aramis nodded his head, “Bouncing around like he’s sugar hyped” 

Porthos drew a deep breath, “When’s he gonna wake up?” he asked, not really asking Aramis, just saying the question outloud 

“I don’t know,” Aramis murmured reaching out and taking d’Artagnan’s hand, running his thumb over the knuckles, “But I hope it’s soon.” His dark eyes trailed over the thick bandages over d’Artagnan’s arms covering the stitches that were closing the slashes that reached from elbow to wrist, “He’s gonna have some nasty scars from this,”

“Ah they’ll just make ‘im look more badass than ever!” Porthos huffed dismissively and gestured to the scar over his eye, “He’ll make that punk rock shit look good!”

Aramis snorted in amusement, Porthos was right, d’Artagnan would care about the scars, yes, those that saw them would think that they had been self inflicted, but d’Artagnan didn’t care about peoples opinions of him, he wouldn’t have lasted as long as he had if he did. 

What he would care about was if there was any permanent damage to his arm muscles, the ligaments and tendons that could have been sliced through when Anne…whatever the bitches name was, had cut into his flesh. 

Aramis shuddered at the thought of nerve damage, of d’Artagnan not being able to use his hands as dexterously has he had before. 

He was young, not even twenty yet, his life had barely even begun and he could be permanently damaged by this for simply doing the right thing. 

 

Involuntarily he looked across the room the bed Athos was in, he knew he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t help but to feel resentful of the billionaire. 

He knew in his heart, and in the logical part of his mind that Athos was not to blame for any of this, that he was as much a victim as d’Artagnan, maybe even more so, he’s been manipulated and betrayed in the worst possible ways by the woman he’d loved who had also murdered his brother. What Athos must be feeling Aramis had no idea and payed to God he would never find out. 

But part of him, a part that Aramis did not like, blamed Athos for what had happened to d’Artagnan, to Porthos, to himself. If he had just let d’Artagnan leave when he’d asked, not gone to the police, then d’Artagnan would have never have been put in danger. Rochefort’s men wouldn’t have come calling, Porthos wouldn’t have broken his leg, and Milady wouldn’t have got her claws into them. 

 

“You know, you stare at him any harder he might burst into flames!” 

Porthos’s voice in Aramis’s ear made him jump and he turned to give Porthos a glare. 

“He ain’t really to blame you know?” Porthos said, “It’s that psycho bitch, the fuckin’ useless ass pigs, and whatever that guys name is, Crotch rot or whatever!”

Aramis broke into giggles, “Crotch rot!” only Porthos could get Crotch Rot from Rochefort, and thank God he hadn’t said that out loud because damn it sounded dirty just in his head!

Just then d’Artagnan gave a groan and coughed, his pale face screwing up as he returned to consciousness and probably wasn’t overly happy about it.

 

“Hey kid, open those big brown ones for us!” Aramis cooed as if talking to a baby, he stood up leaning over the bed to talk to his kid brother

“Hey c’mon brat!” Porthos said patting d’Artagnan’s calf, “You’ve slept in long enough, time to rise and shine now!”

d’Artagnan moaned, and shifted, “Fuck’off!” he mumbled groggily 

Both Aramis and Porthos burst into laughter at the insult.

 

Blinking heavy lidded eyes, d’Artagnan forced himself to open them and gazed at his worried looking big brothers,

“Where…we?” he asked, his voice slurring, he coughed again and Aramis got the water from the table tray and held the straw to his mouth so he could have a drink

“You’re in hospital pet,” Porthos explained, “You’ve been badly hurt but you’re going to be okay”

d’Artagnan frowned at him, trying to make sense of the information. Hurt? When had he been hurt? He remembered feeling sleepy and going to sleep on the bed in the parlour, then there was nothing until he woke up here.

His arms were hurting, the insides of them feeling like they were on fire!

Lifting them he stared at the bandages wrapped about his forearms in shocked bewilderment, “What happened?” he asked looking to Aramis and Porthos, both of whom looked uncomfortable, Aramis cleared his throat and Porthos grunted, shifting about in his seat,

“That’s gonna take some telling,” Aramis said, “And you better brace yourself because it ain’t a pretty story.”

 

*****

 

Athos felt like he had on his last trip to Amsterdam! 

His head was spinning, his mouth tasted like he’d had his tongue in an ashtray all night, and his chest hurt like hell.

He groaned and opened his eyes, regretting it when bright lights greeted them 

“Hey moneybags is up!” a voice…Porthos? Said 

“Athos!”, now that was d’Artagnan, he’d know that voice anywhere

Shuffling noises sounds, like someone was getting out of a bed, 

“D’Art no, you need to stay…” Aramis trailed off and metallic rattling noises followed along with some machine that began to beep loudly.

 

Forcing himself to open his eyes Athos looked over towards where the noise was coming from and saw d’Artagnan walking over to him, a drip stand besides him, and pulled off monitor leads draped over the floor from where he’d pulled them off his chest setting the monitor alarm off.

Athos was groggy, his brain wasn’t functioning properly, all he could do was smile dopily at the boy coming over to him and sitting down on the bed beside him

“You’re gonna be okay,” d’Artagnan said grinning at him, which looked kind of ghoulish with his face being so pale but Athos loved it anyway, loved how cute he was,

“You look cute too!” d’Artagnan said making Athos belatedly realise he had actually said that outloud!

Blushing Athos bit his bottom lip and tried to shake the cotton wool out of his mind so he could think clearly,

“What’s…” he began, but then Doctors and Nurses were pouring into the room and began talking over each other, hustling d’Artagnan back to bed and replacing the tabs on his chest, ordering him to stay in bed 

A Doctor came up to Athos and started flashing a light in his eyes which made his head ache all the more. 

“All right Monsieur de la Fare, can you tell me your date of birth, the name of the president, and your address?” he asked 

Athos slowly rattled off the answers while slowly recalling what had happened and how he ended up here. 

“Jesus Christ!” he whispered, “Anne!”

“Fuck that bitch!” Aramis piped up, “Treville’s got her, he’s gone sort her out!”

Athos looked over to where the three friends were, d’Artagnan was protesting as the nurses fussed over him, and kept trying to wriggle out of their grasp

“Will you quit pocking at me?” he complained, “I’m friggin’ fine so cut it out!”

He looked so petulant and sulky that it startled a laugh from Athos which earned him a grin from d’Artagnan 

“Are you alright?” he asked the boy, the bandages up his arms made his heart ache in guilt, he hated seeing d’Artagnan hurt like this, especially since…

“It ain’t your fault,” d’Artagnan said to him, as if reading his mind, “Blame that fucked up bitch, blame the cops for not doing their jobs, but don’t blame yourself,”

“Hard not to,” Athos murmured, “I brought you into this, all of you, if I hadn’t, If I had just let you go, if I had listened to Thomas…”

“No, no, baby no!”, this came from d’Artagnan, startling Athos by the term he used, and the boy tried to climb out of bed again, only to be pushed back down by the remaining nurse 

“Non of this is your fault,” he said shooting a glare at the nurse who pointedly ignored him, “It’s all that bitches, not yours, in fact you’re a hero!, you saved my life!”

Aramis cleared his throat, “Excuse me?” 

d’Artagnan waved a hand in his direction, “Well you and Mis, but if you hadn’t come home when you did and stopped the bitch from what she was doing, I’d be dead, and…God only knows what would have happened to Mis, and Port,”

Athos smiled weakly, he wanted to believe d’Artagnan, he really did, he wanted for this not to be in anyway his own fault, but he just couldn’t convince himself of that, all he could think about was how he had been blinded by Anne, deaf to what Thomas had been telling him, and too stupid to see what was right in front of him, had always been in front of him from the start. 

Anne hadn’t suddenly started manipulating him, she’d been doing it from day one, and he’d let her do it! He had let himself be twisted and confused by her, let her take control of practically everything in his life, and why? Because she flattered his ego, made him feel less of bumbling fool when it came to flirtation, made him feel as good as his Brother when it came to charm. 

His own stupid petty insecurities had brought this about, his jealousies about his brother’s gift of the gab and charming wit. 

He could never forgive himself for this, never forgive the fact that so many people had been hurt because of his own blindness. 

However, dwelling on it would do nothing, he could of course go home and fall into the nearest bottle and twenty years down the line have him liver pack up on him. 

But that would achieve nothing, and was not what Athos wanted, not what Thomas would have wanted for him. 

What Athos would do was spend the rest of his life making amends. 

Staring first with securing d’Artagnan, Aramis, and Porthos with enough money to make sure that they would be able to live happy and comfortable lives wherever they wished to go. 

He’d also look seriously into cleaning up the streets of the city. Provide kids like d’Artagnan with places to go so they didn’t end up having to survive by thieving, or selling themselves. 

He’d have shelters made for them, for the homeless, make them secure so gangs couldn’t try and take them over. 

Maybe he’d work with Treville about setting up a witness protection shelter too, so people who did the right thing wouldn’t have to worry about getting hurt. 

If those running it were not involved with the Police directly then it was less likely they’d be affiliated with gangs, so witnesses would be more secure. 

 

The thoughts of what he would do to make up for his short comings filled Athos’s mind as he slowly drifted back to sleep, the pain killers and blood loss too much to fight anymore and the sound of Aramis and Porthos talking as d’Artagnan tried to fight sleep, providing a calm sense of safety that Athos gratefully slipped into as he fell into sleep. 

 

*****

Across the City Rochefort hurled a tumbler of whiskey at his TV screen. 

The news was on and was reporting the arrest of Milady de Winter for the Murder of Thomas de la Fare, and the attempted murder of Athos de la Fare and three unnamed men!

“Stupid bitch!” he snarled furiously, “Stupid incompetent bitch!”

Pulling out his mobile phone he dialled a number, “Lebarge,” he greeted, “Milady’s been arrested, she’s being held in one of the prisons. The bitch is too manipulative and self serving to fall on her own sword, she needs silencing, so shut her up, permanently.”

“You got it boss,” came the grunted response, then the line went dead

Pressing the phone to his lips Rochefort glared at the TV screen which showed Milady’s last picture taken with her side by side with Athos at some Gala event, she looked beautiful in a backless dark green cocktail dress, and sinfully large emeralds hanging from her ears and throat. She had a possessive hand on Athos’s arm as he gazed at the camera’s looking like the proverbial deer in the headlights.

“You gonna regret fucking with me bitch!” Rochefort hissed at the screen, “Seriously regret fucking with me!”.


	22. Chapter 22

Court House 

 

The Judge sighed and shook his head, in his hand he held the written statement Milady de Winter had given, and before him, on the desk was the file that Treville had gathered on her. 

"You really want this woman to have lenient sentence?" He asked looking incredulous at Treville, "She's a mass murderer, a severe danger to society!"

Treville sighed and ran his hand through his hair, which he was sure was far thinner and greyer than it had been before he'd started this godforsaken case!

"I know My Lord, and in normal circumstances, I would be happy to throw away the key, but I don't know what else to do but to make a deal with her. We need her testimony, she has the evidence that could bring down Rochefort's entire empire!"

The judge grunted, he pushed back from his desk and went to the cabinet at the side of the room and opened one of the doors revealing bottles of alcohol and glasses, "Scotch?" he asked pouring himself a measure 

"Please," Treville replied eagerly. 

The judge poured him a measure and handed him the glass before going to take his seat behind his desk again and drank a large mouthful of scotch. 

"I won't lie to you Treville," he said, "This is not going to look good in court, us making a deal with a woman like this, you covertly hiding three criminals...,"

"Petty criminals," Treville cut in, "None of them have ever committed a truly serious crime, and they all have extenuating circumstances that drove them into that life. Porthos was born on the streets, he grew up there, never knew anything but that life. Aramis was a teenage runaway who fell under the spell of an abusive boyfriend who pimped him out. d'Artagnan was orphaned when his Father was killed in a mugging gone bad. He ended up on the streets and had to turn to theft to feed himself," Treville paused and sighed, "They are all very young. d'Artagnan isn't even twenty yet, there is still time for them to turn their lives around if they are given the chance to do so."

"And you want them given that chance." The Judge said 

"Well.., I think they deserve it, they could have just bolted, d'Artagnan didn't have to come forward with the information he had, he could have even demanded money and he didn't. After all, he has been through, all they have been through I think they deserve to be given a fair chance to make something of their lives."

 

The judge pursed his lips, he swirled the whiskey in the glass and sighed heavily, "We've known each other a long time Treville," he said looking up through his eyelashes at the other man, "You rarely become so passionate about something and when you do, you will move heaven and earth to see it done. So I know there is little point my arguing with you over this as it will get me nowhere will it?"

"No," Treville admitted 

"Very well then," the Judge said, "I'll agree to the terms, In return for cooperating with us Milady will be given a Ten Year sentence in a maximum security prison, with Parole to be considered after serving five years. That is as lenient as I am willing to be for her, and considering her crimes it is very lenient indeed. As for your three foundlings. I'll dismiss all charges against them, give them a clean slate in return for their helping the course of justice."

Treville let out a breath that he didn't know he'd been holding. "Thank you, Sir."

"Hmm, Just you make sure that this pays off," The judge said signing the documents Treville needed, "I want Rochefort brought before me, I want you to bring him down, utterly and completely."

Treville smiled, "That My Lord, will be my Pleasure."

 

*****

 

Prison

 

Milady restlessly paced in her cell. There wasn't much that she could do in a six by six room, with a tiny barred window, a sink, a toilet, and a bunk. She had no source of entertainment, nothing to do but sit or lay or walk back and forth. 

It wasn't like she could speak to her neighbors in the cells next to hers. One had come in pissed out of his skull, he was singing loudly when the police had brought him in, an off-key and vulgar song about female anatomy, had resorted to swearing at the officers as they'd shoved him in the cell and then proceeded to burp and fart loud enough for the entire lockup to hear him!.

The Prostitute in the cell on the other side of Milady spoke about five words of English, Yes, No, Money, Bastard, and Fuck! 

There was not a chance of speaking to the officers either. They took a look at her every hour or so, just to make sure she was still breathing but didn't bother doing anything else, except to bring her the barely edible food three times a day. Breakfast, Lunch, and Dinner. 

She'd asked for a magazine, for a newspaper, for anything to do but go out of her mind but so far her requests had been completely ignored. 

 

Lebarge was a huge man with many facial scars. People tended to get out of his way when they saw him coming, not wanting to end up being on the receiving end of the mans scarred fists. 

Dressed in a police uniform, he strode down the corridor to the cells. He'd had no trouble getting into the station, no one had stopped him, no one would dare. His contact had left keys for him to get his hands on as arranged so there was nothing stopping him from getting to Milady. 

A single officer was near the entrance to the cells, his face turned the colour of milk when he saw Lebarge and he made a speedy exit, leaving the man to do as he wished. 

 

Lebarge looked through the slots in the doors of the cell until he found Milady's, then unlocked the door and pushed it open, stepping inside 

Milady looked up from her pacing with a frown and froze when she saw who her visitor was  
"I hear you've been a naughty girl!" Lebarge drawled pulling a cheese wire garrot from his pocket and wrapping it about his fists, "Opening that mouth of yours a bit too much."

Milady swallowed hard and stepped back, trying to put some distance between herself and Lebarge who advanced on her, like a Lion on prey

"Time to shut that mouth of yours for good!" he said smiling coldly, then lunged for her. 

 

*****

 

Hospital

 

Treville decided to go and give the good news to Athos, Aramis, Porthos, and d'Artagnan straight away, he didn't want them to have to wait to hear this for any longer than strictly necessary so he drove to the hospital as soon as he'd finished with the judge. 

He found them all much livelier and happier than the day before, even Athos looked less self-chastising, there was even a small hint of a smile on his face as he watched the antics of the younger men in the room.

Porthos and Aramis had brought a bag of grapes in with them and were proceeding to try and throw them into each other's mouths from across d'Artagnan and Athos's beds. Naturally, they were not hitting their targets very well, but it was providing entertainment and amusement for Athos and d'Artagnan. 

"You're supposed to get in me Gob not bounce it off me nose!" Porthos complained as a purple missile bounced off the end of his nose

"Like you're any better at it!" Aramis shot back 

"You both suck!" d'Artagnan commented 

"How would you know?" Aramis leered 

"He wouldn't!" Porthos snorted, "Little innocent is our d'Art!" 

d'Artagnan flushed and glared at them, "Fuck you both!"

"That'd be interesting!" Aramis laughed 

Laughing at the three Athos was the first to see Treville at the door and welcomed him in. 

"I hope you come with good tidings for once," Porthos said popping a grape into his mouth to eat

"I do," Treville said with a smile and handed out documents to him, Aramis, and d'Artagnan, "Your pardons from the Judge. In return for your testifying against Rochefort."

"Sweet!" Aramis said looking at his own pardon 

"So we're free and clear?" d'Artagnan asked looking his over

"Completely," Treville said, "All you need do is testify, and we'll be looking to get a quick court date for Rochefort. The judge wants to bring him in quickly."

"Who can blame him?" Porthos grunted and Aramis nodded his head 

"What about Anne?" Athos asked quietly and Treville sighed his happy expression falling from his face,

"We've cut a deal with her. In return for her cooperating in bringing down Rochefort she is to receive a lenient sentence."

"She what?" d'Artagnan exploded, "That bitch deserves to be locked up for good, the shit she's done!"

"Damn right!" Porthos agreed scowling hard

Athos pulled at the threads of his blanket and spoke softly, "How long will she get?" 

"Ten years in maximum security," Treville said and was not at all surprised at the outraged cries this received, "She'll also receive a parole hearing in five."

"Oh, you've gotta be shitting me!" Aramis cried, "Ten pissing years, that's it and then out in five?"

"It's bollocks!" Porthos snarled 

"Is that all Thomas' life was worth?" Athos asked looking at Treville with a desolate expression, "Five years?"

Treville opened his mouth to reply but an out of breath Nurse appeared at the door, "Sorry Inspector but there's a call for you from the station, there's been an attack on one of the prisoners, and they say that there's been a death."


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And everything goes completely to shit!....

As Lebarge lunged for her Milady dodged out of the way and brought her left leg up planting her foot into his gut winding him. She pivoted and delivered a round house kick to his back sending him sprawling face first onto the cell floor. 

Briefly Milady glanced at the open cell door. She could attempt to run, but she knew that Lebarge would follow, that no Police officer would help her since he terrified them all. No, the only thing she could do was fight him and hope to win. 

Mind made up she ran at Lebarge as he lurched to his feet, cursing her vulgarly as he did so. She leaped up onto his back wrapping her legs about his chest and squeezed as hard as she could while wrapping her hands about his face going for his eyes with her nails!

Lebarge roared with pain bringing his hands up to grab at her wrists and to try and pull her hands away from his face. 

He succeeded in pulling her left hand from his face, bending back her fingers hard enough to snap two of them causing Milady to howl in pain, but it wasn’t enough to make her stop her attack if anything she sunk renewed her attack and sunk her the nails of her right hand into Lebarge’s right eye!

Lebarge’s howl was guttural and ear splitting, he shuddered all over, his body wobbling like a bowl of jelly as blood oozed down his face. Milady grimaced at the feel of the eye beneath her fingers, its popping was truly sickening to say the least and she had to fight to keep from losing her stomach. 

 

Panting heavily and covered in sweat Lebarge tried another tactic, he hurled himself backwards into the cell wall impacting Milady upon it, crushing her body between himself and the wall. 

Several ribs broke or cracked and all the wind was knocked out of Milady’s body. 

Lebarge wasted no time in gaining the upper hand on her. He grabbed hold of her and flipped her over his shoulders throwing her down onto the floor painfully hard. 

Dazed and pained Milady struggled to keep from losing consciousness, red was raining down onto her face, blood from Lebarge’s destroyed eye. Screwing up her face in disgust Milady tried to move but suddenly bloody hands was wrapping about her neck cutting off her air supply and a lethal garrotte was pressing against her skin!

Coughing on reflex Milady’s eyes bulged and she brought her hands to her throat to try and save herself but each tip of her fingers were sliced open by the wire that had began to sink into her throat. 

“You’re gonna pay bitch!” Lebarge snarled in her ear pulling the wire taut, “I was gonna make it quick, now you can suffer!” 

Milady yelped as the wire sliced into the tender skin of her throat and blood began to seep out of the wound, She couldn’t afford for the wire to go any deeper, if it did she wouldn’t survive it, she couldn’t pull it from her throat, she couldn’t match Lebarge in brute strength, but she could out match him in agility. 

Planting her feet on the floor she thrust all her energy into her legs and thrust herself backwards forcing herself back into Lebarge’s already bruised stomach. He stumbled back, hitting the wall and jarring his elbows forcing him to drop the garrotte. 

Milady didn’t have time to catch her breath or examine her wound, on pure adrenaline she jumped to her feet and delivered bone breaking kick to Lebarge’s ribs and a solid punch to his jaw to keep him down for the moment, and a moment was all she needed. Taking hold of the garrotte she pulled it taut and wrapped it about Lebarge’s throat and used a scissor like motion pulling on the wire hard and slicing right through Lebarge’s throat all the way down to the bone!

Lebarge’s single remaining eye bulged in shock, his mouth opened but only blood came pouring out matching what was gushing down his front and back. 

Letting go of the garrotte Milady stepped back and watched as Lebarge toppled to the floor with blood pooling about him. 

“If that’s the best you’ve got Rochefort then you are screwed!” she spat wrapping a hand about her throat that was continuing the bleed, she needed to stop that, stop the blood and fast. 

Grabbing hold of Lebarge’s shirt she tore a long thick strip from it and proceeded to wrap it about her throat to staunch the blood flow, tearing more of the shirt she added make shift bandages to her finger tips to stop the bleeding there, with a last look at Lebarge she turned on her heel and walked out of the cell making her way calmly through the station where the Police were conspicuously absent. From the reception she appropriated a womans leather jacket to go over her paper jump suit, and grabbed a baker boys hat from another desk before she calmly walked out of the front door and into freedom. 

 

*****

 

“How in Gods name did this happen?” Treville roared at the Sergeant beside him as they stood over Lebarge’s cooling corpse inside the blood bath of a prison cell

“This thug just strolls in here carrying a garrotte, opens a cell, attacks a prisoner, gets killed by said prisoner who then just walks right on out of here and no one noticed anything being wrong!?”

The Sergeant shrugged, “I was in the bathroom Sir!” he said, “Me tummy’s been a bit jippy, need to lay off the Mexican and Indian food!”

Treville regarded the man with utter contempt. He was seething. Milady had been their best bet at bringing Rochefort down, she was horrific and terrifying but had been exactly what they’d needed to destroy his criminal empire, He had hated making a deal with her, swallowing down his morals to secure her a light prison sentence, but he had done it clear in the knowledge that it would be for the greater good. 

Now she was in the wind, and he would have to explain the corpse in the cells to his superiors!

That was going to go well! Treville might as well write his resignation right now! 

“Sir?” 

“What?” he barked turning round to see a Constable in uniform standing in the doorway 

“The Captain wants to see you,” she said quietly 

Treville blew a snort out through his nose, yeah, resignation, at least that would be better than being fired. 

 

*****

 

Milady hadn’t been a thief for a while but she hadn’t lost her skill. 

Her current clothing was not suitable, and she needed a shower and decent medical supplies to patch herself up with. 

So she headed to the shops first, quickly and efficiently picking a couple of business mens pockets, taking their cash and tossing the wallets since the credit cards were no use to her right now. 

She then went to the first chemist she came across and purchased disinfectant, plasters, adhesive bandages, toiletries, and make up. 

From there she went to a clothing store and bought herself cheap but functional clothing and shoes, she would have preferred something finer but beggars couldn’t afford to be choosers and she had no choice right now so she’d make do. 

With the last of the money she bought herself food and drink and made her way to non-descript motel. 

The clerk gave her a room without really looking up from his porn magazine and Milady let herself into the room, locking the door and headed straight for the bathroom to wash herself clean and treat her injuries. Once she was done with that she could eat and start making a plan on where to go from here. 

 

*****

 

Hospital 

 

Treville was a little drunk as he made his way to d’Artagnan and Athos’s room. Aramis and Porthos had gone back to the manor for the night and d’Artagnan was asleep where Athos was reading a paper he must have bought from the seller making the rounds. 

 

“Treville?” he greeted as the man stumbled through the door, “Are you okay?” he asked worriedly 

This startled a laugh out of Treville which awoke d’Artagnan, the boy blinked owlishly at Treville and his nose wrinkled, “You’re pissed!” he said 

“I am!” Treville admitted, “In more ways than one!” 

Athos glanced to d’Artagnan looking worried, “What’s happened?” he asked 

Treville let out another mirthless laugh and sank down into one of the chairs between the beds, “What hasn’t happened?” he asked, “Milady has escaped custody after killing the assassin who was sent to kill her and has now disappeared, and I!” he grinned a bitter and unhappy sneer, “I have been suspended from duty pending investigation and will most likely be fired!”.


	24. Chapter 24

“This is bullshit!”

Aramis smirked, “You are always such a wordsmith love!” he said to Porthos who leered at him

“How can they do this?” d’Artagnan asked swinging his legs back and forth on the side of Athos’s bed where he was perched, “You didn’t do anything wrong, it was those fuckwits you work with,” he said to Treville who managed a watery smile, he was nursing a black coffee and a bottle of water, he was slowly sobering up and wasn’t sure he liked it. 

“It doesn’t work that way mon petit,” Athos said reached out and lacing a hand through d’Artagnan’s, “When a person is in a position of authority they bear the blame for what happens.”

“But that isn’t fair!” d’Artagnan said his young face screwing up

Athos smiled, d’Artagnan’s youth at this moment was adorable, and it was reassuring that despite all he had endured on the streets he was still naïve. 

“What are we gonna do?” Aramis asked, “We are still in danger aren’t we?”

“You are, perhaps even more so,” Treville agreed, “Whomever is put on the case now will undoubtedly remove the officers that were stationed for your protection, and not guarantee witness protection at all.”

“Right then,” Porthos said decisively, “We’ve gotta run for it while we have the chance!”

Aramis sighed heavily and d’Artagnan rolled his eyes, “Run where?” he asked, “We could we possibly go that Rochefort and those he has in his pockets won’t find and destroy us?”

“The only way to end this is to end Rochefort,” Athos said 

Porthos scoffed, “Oh yeah? What you gonna do put a hit out on him?” 

Treville cleared his throat and looked at them pointedly, while he may not act in his current state against Athos arranging a hit on Rochefort, he did not want to hear about it either, what he didn’t know couldn’t weigh on his conscience. 

 

“No, not a hit,” Athos said, “I mean that we work together to defeat him, to bring an end to his empire once and for all.”

“That sounds like a good idea Athos, but I think you’ll need help to pull it off!”

Five heads all snapped to look at the door and everyone gaped at the sight of who was standing in the doorway. 

Looking as cool and calm as she ever did was Milady De Winter!

 

*****

 

Milady had lain on the bed for several hours with the TV playing in the background so she was not in complete silence. 

She debated her position and her options with herself, she could run, could pick a few more pockets to get her money enough to leave the city, but she knew that she’d never run far enough that Rochefort wouldn’t find her and the next assassin may not be as easily defeated as Lebarge had been.

Well, not that easily, she supposed running the tips of her fingers over her throat and winced at the touch against the cut there. 

She could attempt to take on Rochefort herself, but she would never get past all of those he had protecting him, she was good, but she was not a miracle worker. 

There was one more option, perhaps the most risky of all, but also one that guaranteed her a prosperous future if it worked. 

This was the option she chose, and it took her to the hospital and Athos’s room. 

 

*****

 

“The fuck!” Aramis snarled leaping to his feet closely followed by d’Artagnan 

“You’ve one hell of a nerve to show your face here!” Porthos growled getting to his feet with the aid of his crutches, 

“What the hell are you doing here Anne?” Athos snapped, “Haven’t you caused enough damage?” 

 

Milady sighed and rolled her eyes, stepping into the room and shut the door behind her, 

“I did not come here to fight,” she said, “I came here to play on an old saying. The enemy of my enemy is my friend.”

 

Athos paused and looked to Treville who looked equally perplexed and intrigued by Milady’s words.

Porthos however had no tact at all, “What the hell are you babbling on about?” he demanded heatedly

Milady smiled at him, “Why, us uniting and defeating Rochefort together.”

 

Silence reigned for several minutes and was finally broken when d’Artagnan snorted with laughter, “This has got to be a bad joke!” he said looking at Milady with astounded disgust, “You murdered Athos’s brother, you nearly killed me, Aramis, Porthos, and Athos!”

Milady shrugged, “That is true, but I did not do any of that out of malice, but for survival.” 

Acting as if she were welcomed into this room she made her way over to Aramis’s abandoned chair and sat down crossing her legs and making herself as comfortable as possible on a plastic chair. 

“I was born poor,” she said, “I survived and grew up on the streets, picked pockets, shop lifted, did what I had to, and eventually began to take lives, for a price. I became good at it, very skilled in fact, which was how I became acquainted with Rochefort,”

She looked to Athos and smiled coldly, “I was sent to seduce you, to make myself your wife. It wasn’t personal, I have nothing against you, I had nothing against your Brother, but he made himself a difficulty that I had to deal with. If I hadn’t then someone else would, and they would likely have made him suffer, not given him a swift and painless death.”

Athos grunted and looked sickened, “Am I to thank you for that?” he spat at her, “For your treachery, your deceit?”

d’Artagnan turned to him and took his hand, speaking quietly to him, “Its okay sweetheart,” he said, “It isn’t your fault, and I’m here, I’m not going anywhere.”

Athos’s face softened, “You are an angel,” he breathed

“Oh, how touching!” Milady sneered getting harsh looks from everyone which she ignored, “If the two of you can put aside your puppy love for a while?” she asked, “We do have urgent matters to discuss!”

“What matters?” Treville demanded loudly, “What are you doing here, what do you want?” he cried, “No more backstory bullshit, no more making smart comments, just tell us plain and simple, what is it you want?”.

 

Milady did have the grace to look affronted by Treville’s outburst. She looked around the room, reading the expressions on the mens faces. She knew she was not welcome here, of course she wasn’t, but their patience with her, their tolerance and restrain from physically acting against her was wearing very thin, too thin, she had to be straight with them, and right now. 

“I want to bring down Rochefort, to end his reign of power, to annihilate his empire utterly and completely.”

Aramis rose an eyebrow at her, and looked carefully to Athos before speaking

“You want more than that,” he said, “Or you wouldn’t have come here,”

Milady shrugged, “I need allies of course,” she said, then she smiled a calculating smile, “However you are correct I do have a demand, of you, my dear Athos,”

Athos’s mouth opened slightly but he didn’t speak, d’Artagnan glared at her as she went on

“In return for my assistance in defeating Rochefort you will do certain things for me. One, you will grant me the opportunity to slip away, to disappear without a trace, and I promise I will never return to you haunt you again. Second, you Athos will pay me, ten million dollars, half to paid to a bank account of my choosing now, and half after we are done.”

Milady sat back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest looking smugly at Athos as she awaited his answer.


	25. Chapter 25

The sad fact was that they needed Milady. 

While they would all much rather tell her to go to hell, they could not afford to, they had to concede to her outrageous terms and accept her assistance in bringing down Rochefort. 

Athos begrudgingly transferred the funds to a bank account of her choosing with another five million to be paid upon the completion of the task. 

Thankfully she did not demand to move back into the mansion, that he would never have stood for, but she was given the use of one of his cars. The porche she had loved the most out of his impressive collection of cars. 

“Any luck she’ll crash it and snap her neck!” Porthos had muttered under his breath when he’d learned of this. He had his eye on the Ferrari and it was pretty obvious that when the cast came off his leg he’d be persuading Athos to let him drive it. Aramis had eyes for the Lamborghini, and d’Artagnan for the motor bikes that had previously been Thomas’s. 

Athos already planned on giving them to D’Artagnan after the kid had got himself a licence to ride them, he wasn’t giving him something that could potentially get him killed without him knowing how to handle it. 

Athos liked to think that Thomas would approve of this over the bikes being sold or left to gather dust. He didn’t ride himself so unless he sold them they would have gone to waste.

 

When he and d’Artagnan were finally discharged from the hospital and went back to the mansion, Athos insisted that Treville join them. 

Treville had his own apartment of course, but Athos wanted to keep his “Family” close by, he also wanted Treville to know that he wasn’t alone, and that he had people around him who cared now he’d been betrayed by the Police force he’d given twenty years of his life to. 

 

“Maybe you should become a Private Investigator, set yourself up in rivalry to the Pigs, S’not like you could do a worse job than those pricks!” Porthos said through a mouthful of pasta 

The five of them were sat at Athos’s dining room table eating Italian take away from one of his favourite restaurants, warm crusty ciabatta smothered in butter, meatballs in sauce, linguini tossed with garlic and butter, stuffed olives, sliced mozzarella with beefsteak tomatoes and basil, dressed in olive oil and lots of black pepper, a fresh leafy salad in dressing, and bottles of red wine, with a rich tiramisu to follow. 

“I’ll take that as a compliment, I think!” Treville drawled with a half smile on his face despite the dig at his former profession from Porthos

“We should set up our own crime fighting force!” d’Artagnan declared bouncing in his seat, his table manners as bad as Porthos’ and his chin covered in tomato sauce from the meatballs!

“Clean up!” Aramis teased tossing him a napkin “I know you’re barely out of nappies but this is ridiculous!” 

“Fuck you old timer!” d’Artagnan shot back with a scowl at the dig at his age, “At least I’m not getting lines and wrinkles and grey hair!”

“I am not going grey!” Aramis cried his hands going at once to his cherished locks!

Porthos snickered at his vanity and Athos rolled his eyes while d’Artagnan stuck his tongue out at Aramis who retaliated by throwing an olive at him!

“Never mind a crime fighting force I think you should open a nursery!” Treville drawled to Athos who snorted in amusement, meal times were certainly eventful now, and far more lively and enjoyable since Milady’s departure from his life. There was no one insisting on healthy low fat meals, or berating him for an extra slice of bread and adding a thick spread of butter to it, or for having desserts. He would probably end up regretting his recent indulgences and gain some weight but right now Athos couldn’t have cared less, after all, he was cutting back on his alcohol consumption, that was cutting out a lot of worthless empty calories which he was making up for with stuff that gave him actual nutrition so he may not gain any at all and he’d end up healthier anyway as his body was being inundated with far too much alcohol anymore. 

 

“We could become like the Avengers!” d’Artagnan declared, “Or the X-Men,” he snickered, “Port’s a shoe in for Logan!”

Aramis giggled, “More like Hulk!”

Porthos flipped them both off, “You can be that arrow shooting dork then!” he said to Aramis, “And the brat here will be Captain Virgin!”

The table erupted with laughter at the insult to Captain America though d’Artagnan scowled darkly at being compared to him as a virgin

“Treville’ll be Xavier won’t he, or maybe Nick Fury?” Aramis suggested, he grinned to Athos, “You’re Tony Stark cause you’re rich!”

Athos shrugged, “I can live with that, I’ll need to goatee though”

“We’ll need masks and costumes!” d’Artagnan stated, “And code names!”

“I ain’t wearin’ tights for no fucker!” Porthos declared, “Gimme some gold chains and shit and I’ll get a mohawk and call me’self BA Baracas!” 

“I love it when a plan comes together!” Athos dead panned. 

 

They continued chuckling and making pop culture references for a while before Aramis turned serious. 

“We could do this, really do this,” he said, “Conceal our identities, patrol the streets, stop people from getting hurt, stop major crimes before they happen.”

“Vigilante justice is illegal.” Treville stated

“Only if we get caught!” Aramis shot back, “And that’s why we’d wear masks, and you’re an ex pig, you can keep us on the right side of the law, or as close to it as possible, and help us with the detective shit!”

“Detective shit?” Treville repeated but d’Artagnan was already talking

“We’ve got to think up a name for ourselves, a cool group name that describes us, like X-Men, and Avengers, and Fantastic Four!”

“How ‘bout the Bad Ass Mother Fuckers!” Porthos suggested 

Treville sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, he had a feeling that going to the job centre and signing on to the dole would have been a lot less stressful than this was going to be!

 

*****

 

Musketeers

 

This was chosen as the name for their brand new crime fighting team.

Most, Unusually Skilled, Kick-ass, Emergency Team, elimination, examination, retribution service!.

Code names came next. 

The Hornet was Aramis’s name, he would used as a honey trap, to seduce targets and for sniper work since he had one hell of a good eye and aim for shooting. 

They would only be firing tranquiliser darts into people, live rounds would be used only when absolutely necessary, and then only to disable not to kill. 

Treville was adamant about this as the law would not see self defence if they did otherwise. 

He also made sure that they all knew to avoid shooting anywhere near major arterial vessels, joints, and vital organs. 

The Bull was Porthos’s code name, Bull in a china shop was the description, his major skill was hand to hand and close quarter combat, he would be perfect for any fighting and for intimidation. 

Wild Cat was d’Artagnan’s code name, his Parkour skills suiting the term for a feline’s agility and his wild nature, he would break into places of investigation, do observation from rooftops and tail suspects. 

The Lion was Athos’s code name, he was a skilled fighter, having taken kick boxing and fencing lessons, but his greatest assets would be to infiltrate society events, using his fame and connections to get into places the others could not. 

Tawney Owl was Treville’s, his wisdom and training as a Police Officer, he would observe and lead them, handle the gathering of the intel and make sure things were done as legally as possible. 

 

After this was decided costumes were the next thing to come up with, d’Artagnan and Aramis making the designs for Athos to have made up for them in light weight armoured fabrics that would easy enough for them to move in and wear beneath regular clothes but tough enough to withstand a fair amount of damage and provide some protection from knives and bullets. 

Aramis’s costume was in black with dark gold striping on the over knee boots and the full face mask and gloves he would wear. The tranq darts he carried out be in wrist cuffs fixed to the gloves and would be like a bee’s sting. 

Porthos’s was in a very dark red/brown with metal toed and heeled boots, metal knuckle dusters over the knuckles of his gloves, and a bull’s horns on his full face mask. 

Athos’s was a dark gold, with face of a roaring lion and a mane of faux lion’s hair on the full mask, he would carry a sword at his side with the crest of a lion on the blade and a Lion’s head on the pommel. 

d’Artagnan’s was in a silver/grey with non slip pads on his gloves, along with crampon claws at the ends of his finger and the toes of his boots to aid him climbing, he would also carry a rope which would look like a tail save for the grappling hook on the end he could use to swing from building to building, and as a lasso, his mask had the face of a cat upon it complete with whiskers. 

Treville’s costume was in brown and tawny, he would be armed with a gun and a taser, and his mask had an owls beak and feathers upon it. 

 

“This is completely and totally absurd!” he declared as he stood in full costume with the others

“It’s cool!” d’Artagnan replied swinging his lasso “I can’t wait to get out there and start swinging from the rooves!”

“I’m going to enjoy stinging some of those old perverts who took advantage of me!” Aramis crowed 

“And kickin’ the shit out of ‘em!” Porthos growled cracking his knuckles 

“We will make the city a better place and all criminals fear the Musketeers!” Athos said twirling his sword in his hand

Treville groaned, how in the hell was this now his life?

 

 

*****

 

Across the city Milady was having a change of appearance too. 

She had her hair bobbed short, a sleek cut that fell just below her ear lobes, with the parting done on the far left creating a dramatic wave of hair over her head and a fringe over her forehead. She also had it dyed, a warm chestnut brown with some burgundy and copper highlights. 

Her pale skin she changed to tanned with a professional spray on tan that gave her a skin kissed look, and changed her eye colour to blue by the use of contacts. 

She would get more work done when she had defeated Rochefort, facial reconstruction to change her appearance completely, and laser work on the scar over her throat which she knew she’d be left with. She was currently hiding the wound under a scarf or a choker but would use cosmetic surgery to sort it completely. 

She updated her wardrobe, filling it with Gucci, Prada, Versace, Dolci and Gabbana, Chanel, and Valentino. Maxfactor, Maybeline, and Estee Lauder covered her dressing table, and the floor was littered with shoes from Jimmy Choo, Louboutin, and Manolo Blahnik. 

 

In her newly rented penthouse apartment she lazed comfortably back on her corner suite sofa before a fifty two inch plasma 4K TV sipping Crystaal champagne and eating sushi while scrolling through house listings in the Caymans where she was planning on heading once this business was finished and she had the next five million from Athos. 

Right now she was very content and proud of her ability to survive and turn anything to her favour, but as of yet she had not been introduced to the newly christened Musketeers!.


	26. Chapter 26

“Are you serious I mean really serious?”  
“Why wouldn't we be?” Aramis asked   
“Oh you mean besides the fact that this is absolutely ridiculous!”, Milady stared at the newly christened Musketeers with open disdain, perhaps if this situation was not also effecting her then she would have found the whole notion of them dressing up to become vigilantes and amusing joke, but as it was seriously effecting her she was not seeing the funny side of things.

“I don't think it's ridiculous,” D’Artgnan said

“Of course you wouldn't you’re a child!” Milady Sneered at him making him scowl at her

“We’ll be thinking of the names for you too” Aramis said with sadistic smirk “We were thinking something along the lines of black widow, tarantula, Python, or viper, you know, something nice and toxic!”

Milady rolled her eyes and sighed sounding put upon, the one person she couldn't look to for some semblance of sanity wasn't exactly showing much, Treville like the others was in costume though he didn't like as ecstatic about it as they did.

“I am working with infants!” she said more to herself than anyone else or perhaps to a higher power that was obviously punishing her for her past sins!  
“This is completely absurd!” she said now speaking directly to the group  
“No it isn't it's brilliant!” d’Artagnan argued

“How in the hell is this brilliant?” Milady wanted to know

“Because Rochefort will never expect something like this, he’ll have no countermeasure against this, we’ll be able to operate completely under his radar, we can get on the inside and dismantle is forces from there attacking and fighting from within the belly of the beast!” Athos stated with a small smile  
“The belly of the beast?” Milady repeated, “You do realise if you're inside the belly of the beast it means you have been eaten!”  
As it wrong que Porthos’ stomach grumbled “Did someone mention food?” he asked

d’Artagnan broke down into laughter at Aramis not far behind him Athos had a small smile on his face and Treville was just shaking his head. Milady groaned and sank down into the nearest chair covering her head in her hands this was going to be a disaster.

 

*****

 

The essence of a good plan was preparation. This was Athos’ business attitude and he was utilizing it as an outlook for The Musketeers. 

Their base goal was to take down Rochefort. But to do so they needed a plan of attack, a strategy. 

They needed to get inside Rochefort’s lair, to gain his confidence so they could get information on him that could not be dismissed in court. 

The best way to do that was with a honey trap. 

The Hornet.

 

“Rochefort does not date, he does not make a habit of going out to find men or women to court,” Milady explained, “He has no time for romance, would not deem anyone worthy of his attentions beyond the physical gratification. He does however have physical and sexual desires that have to be fulfilled from time to time, so, to deal with that he uses whores, high class exclusive whores.”

“High class huh?” Aramis asked with a grin. He was sat before the dressing table of the bedroom which would become his and Porthos’ room once Porthos could manage the stairs. 

Athos’s personal stylist Constance Bonacieux was giving him a makeover, She was a professional hair and beauty stylist, ran her own very exclusive salon in the city called Constant Beauty, and had a cliental of celebrities and trophy wives. Athos had met her through her abusive ex-husband Jacques whom had been Athos’s tailor until he’d found out that the man had been beating his wife. He had then intervened on Constance’s behalf, got her a divorce with a generous financial settlement and an injunction to prevent Bonaciuex from ever going near Constance again. 

He had very generously entered a business deal with her and helped her set up her salon and had her do his hair and his eyebrows, and his facial hair so he could look presentable before the cameras. 

To make Aramis able to move among society and not look out of place, Athos had called her in to style his eyes, shape his eyebrows, his facial hair, and apply make up if necessary. 

Aramis had an almost perfectly symmetrical face, he also had dramatically high cheek bones, a perfectly straight nose, a generous kissable mouth, and chocolate brown eyes that one wanted to fall into. 

Aside from some tidying up Aramis did not need a great deal of work doing. 

Constance cut his hair, taking all the dead out of it and styled it into a fashionable tussled long and wavy cut that finished just above his ear lobes. A small amount of gel run through the locks swept them straight back off his face and held them in place enough without making them look too over made up.

Carefully she waxed his eyebrows to make them shape his eyes better, Aramis winced and yelped through the procedure and outright screamed when his facial hair was waxed to create a perfect goatee that would have done Robert Downey Junior proud!

“I need to grow a goatee,” d’Artagnan murmured stroking his chin 

“You’ll need to go through puberty first Pup!” Aramis teased 

d’Artagnan scowled at him and ran his fingers through his short spiky blonde hair, his roots were coming through and he wasn’t sure he wanted to keep the blonde anymore but he couldn’t be bothered to dye it back. 

“Now,” Constance said to Aramis, “You have naturally beautiful skin so we don’t really need to do anything there. What we can do is add some kohl under your eyes and very carefully over the lid by your eyelashes to make your eyes look even wider and doe like than they already are,”

“Hmm, doe like huh?” Aramis leered, “You like my eyes?” 

Constance narrowed her sharp blue eyes at him, “I am already in a relationship with a women who is a professional kick boxer!” 

Aramis had the grace to gulp at that and d’Artagnan snickered at his expense

“A little lip liner too, that will make your lips appear wider and add some extra colour to them,” Constance carefully applied the make-up to Aramis’ face, showing him how to do it for himself, “A touch, and a mean just a touch of bronzer to your cheeks will bring out your cheek bones and shape your face.” 

“Anything?” Aramis asked as the bronzer was applied

“Go easy on the cologne, just a slight scent, nothing over powering and I think that’ll do it,” Constance said, “As for your clothing, I believe Athos is taking care of that.”

 

*****  
Athos was taking care of Aramis’s clothing. He had taken Aramis’s measurements and gone to the stores he bought his suits from. Gucci, Armani, and Versace. 

He purchased Aramis five suits, two Armani, one in black, the other in dark blue, one Gucci in cream, and two Versace, one in grey, and one in chocolate brown. 

He also bought him shirts to go with the suits, White of course, also royal blue, emerald green, violet, crimson, burgundy, and black. He bought five silk ties for Aramis to choose from, one in plain black, one white with a blue paisley design, one plain dark green, one plain red, and one cream with a purple paisley design.

He took the shirts and the suits to his personal tailor to get then fitted to Aramis’ measurements so they would fit like a glove. 

Along with the suits he also bought Aramis more casual wear, two pairs of jeans one in stone wash blue and one in dark blue, both pairs skinny and stressed. He also bought him a leather bomber jacket, and a selection of casual T-Shirts, two long sleeved and three short sleeved. 

While this was for Aramis to use for work Athos felt bad about only getting him clothing and not Porthos and d’Artagnan anything, so he ended up buying them clothing too. 

For Porthos he bought two Armani suits one in pin striped dark grey and one in a very dark red with ties to match them. Three pairs of jeans in faded blue, dark blue, and grey, all loose rather than skinny and stressed, the dark blue being ripped. A selection of shirts and T-Shirts for him to chose from in white, light blue, dark blue, grey, black, red, and plaid. He also bought him a thigh length leather jacket with stud work on the collar that seemed Porthos’ style. 

d’Artagnan he bought three Gucci suits, one in chestnut with gold checks, one in slate grey, and one in light powder blue with three ties in cream, black, and light blue. A selection of shirts in white, dark brown, black, red, bright blue, and grey/blue. Two pair of skinny jeans in black and in grey, and a selection of long sleeved and short sleeved T-Shirts in the same shades as the dress shirts. He also bought him a fitted leather peacoat that would suit d’Artagnan well. 

Foot wear too to purchased for them, dress shoes to go with their suits, good hard soled water proof boots, and trainers. 

 

With so many clothes to fit Athos’ tailor was ecstatic at the amount he was making. 

“These people must be very special to you Monsieur La Fare,” he said 

“Oh they are,” Athos said, “Very special indeed, one in particular is extremely special,”

 

*****

 

It took ten days for the clothing to be finished and bought to the manor. Aramis had been expecting his, but Porthos and d’Artagnan hadn’t been expecting theirs.

“Why on earth would you do this?” d’Artagnan asked looking through the vast array of clothing he was presented with

Athos shrugged, “Why wouldn’t I?” 

“You must have spent thousands on us!” Porthos exclaimed looking through the suits, Armani suits! Dolce and Gabbana jeans! 

“Well I am a Billionaire,” Athos said, “And you’re my friends so…,” he broke off and looked uncertain, “I mean I would like for us to be friends,”

“Dude, for this lot you ain’t just a friend but my Brother!” Porthos declared clapping Athos on the shoulder 

“It’s like fucking Christmas!” d’Artagnan exclaimed, quite unexpectedly he leapt up into Athos arms and kissed him soundly on the lips! 

Treville rose his eye brows in surprise, Aramis laughed and shook his head, and Porthos just snorted, “Took bloody long enough!”

Athos was panting and looked stunned when d’Artagnan finally let him up for air, “Is this okay?” d’Artagnan asked looking uncertain despite the fact he had his legs about Athos’ waist and we being held by him,

“Yeah!” Athos said breathlessly, “Its very okay!”.


	27. Chapter 27

“I’ve never actually done this before,”

d’Artagnan’s hesitant admission over his inexperience had Athos gulping somewhat in trepidation over being the one to take the Boy’ virginity. 

A lot was going to be resting on their first time. If d’Artagnan hated it then he’d never want a repeat performance and Athos was not into one night stands. He wanted a relationship with d’Artagnan, something that would last, not a brief fumble that would be over by the time the after glow had faded. 

“Uh, just so I’m clear, how much experience do you have with men, or women?”

d’Artagnan wrinkled his nose, “I don’t like women. Well I mean I like them but I don’t Like, like them, you know?”

“Appalling English but yes I understand,” Athos said with a grin, so d’Artagnan was Gay, fine, that was fine, “And your experience with men is…?”

d’Artagnan shifted uncomfortably, “umm, I’ve kissed a guy, once, a bit of tongue,”

“Alright, wait..that, you don’t mean me do you?” Athos asked and d’Artagnan flushed crimson, “Oh boy!” Athos breathed, d’Artagnan wasn’t just a virgin he was completely untouched. Athos felt his stomach sink down somewhere in the vicinity of his feet, about the same time as his cock began to make an attempt to reach his belly button! Oh God, he was terrified and turned on at the same time! What the hell did that say about him? 

“I know what you do,” d’Artagnan offered quietly, “I have to…, get on my knees? Lie on my belly so you can…, uh, and there’s lube, we need to use lube, Aramis says always use lots of lube!”

Athos closed his eyes tight and felt like his balls were going to explode about the same time he died of embarrassment! 

“You don’t have to do anything,” he whispered taking several deep and steadying breaths to get himself under control, “I don’t want to..,” he paused and took another breath, picking his words with care so there would be no misunderstanding, because if there was then there would be no second chance here, D’Artagnan was too young, too inexperienced, if he felt rejected then he would bolt and would never return. 

“I want to take things slowly,” Athos said finally, “I don’t want to just fall into bed with you, I want to date you, take you for meals, watch shitty movies in front of the TV with Ice cream and popcorn, go to the movies and make out on the back seat. I want to get to know you, I want you to get to know me, I want for sex to happen for us in its own time.”

d’Artagnan’s face had the perfect O expression of surprise, he was surprised by Athos’s statement, that he wanted to date him and not just fuck him. He hadn’t really prepared for this, he had known about the sex, how two Men did it, what role he would take in it because he didn’t figure Athos being on the receiving end, it just didn’t work in his mind. He’d expected for him and Athos to kiss a lot, to grope each other, then Athos would carry him to his bed, lay him down and..well, then they’d be fucking, he had not expected for Athos to say he wanted to take him out to dinner like…, like…, a boyfriend? Is that what Athos wanted? For d’Artagnan to be his boyfriend? 

“I don’t…, why would you want that?” d’Artagnan asked 

“What?” Athos asked looking bewildered 

“Well I’m not like her,” d’Artagnan said shrugging his shoulders, “I’m just a street kid, I’m not fancy or refined, I don’t know different knives and forks, or speak lots of languages, and I don’t know opera or how to dance or anything like that!” 

“What the hell does that have to do with anything?” Athos demanded, knowing Opera? Who cared about that? 

“Well that’s you’re type isn’t it? Fancy stuff, like Milady knows?” And Athos understood, d’Artagnan was comparing himself to Anne and finding himself wanting. Anne was refined, had become cultured and sophisticated, she knew how to move in high society, how to seem like she’d been born with a silver spoon in her mouth. D’Artagnan was fresh off the streets, was smart, but it was street smarts not academia, he didn’t know all the social etiquettes that Milady knew, that Athos knew, he could use a knife and fork properly but preferred to hold his fork in his right hand and shovel his food or stab it than cut small dainty pieces. Obviously, having seen the Woman that Athos had been planning to marry, seen the world Athos came from, he had decided that he would be nothing more than a bit of rough on the side, a bit of fun before Athos found someone to take Milady’s place, and people said Athos had poor self-esteem!

“Oh d’Art!” he chuckled, not unkindly, “You are so wrong. I don’t want some socialite to go to the Opera with, I hate the Opera! I don’t care if you don’t know etiquette, I don’t care how many languages you speak, I like you as you are, I like you for you, not for anything else and I don’t want you to change,”

“Oh!” d’Artagnan looked surprised again, pleasantly surprised

“Are you sure I’m what you want?” Athos asked, “I’m hardly some guy that’s going to get you street cred!”

d’Artagnan snorted, “Street cred?”

“Well I don’t know, props, respect, whatever you call it!”

Grinning widely now d’Artagnan wrapped his arms about Athos’s waist, “So, dates?”

“Dates,” Athos said, “You and me, we’ll go to dinner together…say, Friday night?” 

“Do I have to get dressed up?” d’Artagnan asked

“Hmm, one of you new suits will do,” Athos replied, and he looked at d’Artagnan’s hair, “And maybe get your hair re-done, I’m not sure blonde is really you!”

“Ohh, but they say blondes have more fun!”.

 

*****

 

With Athos and d’Artagnan planning to go on a date on Friday night it was a good thing that Aramis’ first encounter with Rochefort was to take place on Wednesday night at a society gala that Athos had an invite for. 

The invitation came with a plus one which he gave to Aramis so he could get inside without any difficulty. 

With his hair perfectly coiffed and held in place with a small amount of gel, his face lightly made up as Constance had shown him how to do, and dressed in his new cream Gucci suit with his royal blue shirt and white silk tie with the blue paisley design Aramis looked completely unrecognisable from the cheap street side whore he’d been a few months earlier. Immaculately dressed and groomed he looked like another sophisticated socialite, brimming with self-confidence and charm. Under Athos and Milady’s tuition he learned to soften his accent and how to speak as someone from society would speak, learned where and when to bite his tongue and how to correctly hold glasses of wine and champagne. 

“Rochefort likes a strong but subtle approach,” Milady instructed as Treville secured the tiny ear piece into Aramis’ ear canal, Athos was wearing one too, they were tiny enough to slip just inside the ear and would go undetected by anyone. “Through him plenty of smiles, compliment him on his build, he’s incredibly vein about his muscles, likes to be told he looks strong and ripped,”

“He’s got nothing on my big bear!” Aramis snorted looking at Porthos who grinned at him, he was going to be surveying the interaction along with d’Artagnan, although he would be in Athos’ limo posing as a Driver, while d’Artagnan would be on the roof of the Hotel where the Gala was being held. Both would only act if Aramis or Athos were put in danger, this was for the most part recon, and to open the door for Aramis to get a foot into for further interaction with Rochefort, he would not necessarily be going further than whetting Rochefort’s appetites tonight. 

 

“Ready?” Athos asked fixing his cufflinks, gold with diamond studs, he was dressed in a dark grey suit with a black shirt and black silk tie, his hair slicked back and secured into a neat pony tail, Milady clicked her tongue at it, she preferred him to have his hair cut short, not to let it grow as he had been lately. 

“Lets hit the road honey!” Aramis leered and link his arm with Athos, he turned to Milady, “Don’t wait up, we’ll be late!” he said shooting her a wink that had her glaring after him 

“Be careful all of you,” Treville cautioned, “And don’t take foolish chances,”

“What counts as foolish exactly?” d’Artagnan asked feigning confusion just to make Treville growl at him, slapping an arm about Porthos’ shoulder they headed out to the limo after Aramis and Athos. 

“This is either going go perfectly or it’ll be a disaster,” Milady said with a heavy sigh, “I’m not entirely sure which I want!” she turned on her heel and headed out of the study leaving Treville to go to the computer where he would be recording and monitoring everything that went on. 

“Just let them get through this alive,” he murmured as he sat down, then rose and got himself a drink from Athos’ wet board, the first of many no doubt, “And preferably without being arrested!” he sighed as he sat back down complete with a whiskey and soda. 

 

*****

 

d’Artagnan jumped out of the limo before they reached the hotel, literally. Porthos slowed down and the door was opened and d’Artagnan jumped out, tucking and rolling them springing up and running into an alley to climb up the drain pipe to a windowsill that he balanced himself on, finding finger holds in the uneven stonework before sinking his crampons in to increase his support and scrambled the rest of the way up onto the flat roof of the building that he ran across at top speed and leaped over the distance between this building and the hotel landing on the very edge of the roof top and paused there looking down into the car park where Porthos was pulling up for Aramis and Athos to get out and head to the foyer where they were greeted by doormen who took their invitations and waved them on into the building. 

“They’re inside no problem,” he reported quietly, “I’m going to take up observation point,”

“Roger that Wild Cat,” Porthos replied, “Taking my place now, at least Athos has an entertainment system in this ride or I’d be bored out my skull!”

“You’re on recon Bull, concentrate!” Treville scolded

“What makes you think I’m not!?”

Treville made a growling noise in his throat!.

 

Aramis could not say that he did not feel some trepidation as he and Athos entered the ballroom. He had never been around society people, had never been in a room that had real crystal chandeliers, or frescoes painted on the ceiling of God and Angels in Clouds. 

Nor had he been anywhere with women dripping in diamonds, rubies, emeralds, and sapphires set in gold and platinum. Nor Men in suits that must have cost thousands, with large Omega and Rolex watches on their wrists. 

The women’s faces were expressionless, their forehead so botoxed that they could frown or raise their eyebrows to save their lives! Their mouths were plumped up with collagen and looking like they might burst under the pressure of the chemical in the flesh that stretched over veneered teeth. They were all tanned, some natural, most spray or sunbed tanned. Their breasts were large and far to high set to be anything other than implants, and more than one definitely had buttocks implants to go with them, giving their otherwise skeletally thin figures some shape. 

They laughed high pitched care free laughs as they hung off the arms of their dates/husbands and made the effort to shine for their man while outshining each other. 

The men were loud, seemed to be competing with each other over who had the loudest voice, who could laugh the most deep bellied laugh, it was a show of power, over who had the most wealth, the prettiest piece of arm candy, the most expensive piece of bling. 

They eyed each others broad shoulders and fitted shirts, comparing muscles that were the product of extensive hours in a gym with personal trainers. Like the women they all had tans, and their foreheads were botoxed to chase away the years, most had not a single grey hair, though a handful of the elders there had stopped bothering with dyes, as had the very few older women, though these women were not on the arms of men, all of them had women young enough to be their daughters on their arms, while the older women had men young enough to be their Sons. Like the men, they were the ones with the money and had the arm candy in the form of polished and pampered young men who did nothing but smile and look pretty. 

“Is anyone here married, or in a relationship based on more than money and sex?” Aramis whispered to Athos as he looked around 

“Very few,” Athos replied, he indicated a couple in their late sixties, “Those two have been together thirty odd years, they are a rarity, actually in love,”

Aramis smiled at the couple, they were cute in a hopeful way, that he might have a relationship like that with Porthos. 

“Champagne or a cocktail?” Athos asked 

“Umm,”

“We’ll go with champagne,” Athos decided taking two glasses of the tray of a passing waiter, “You won’t get drunk on this, especially if you sip it,”

“I’ve a better tolerance than that,” Aramis scoffed and took a mouthful, his eyes widened, this was not the cheap fizz that he and Porthos had drunk before now, this was…this was…, “Maybe I will stick to two!”

“Wise choice,” Athos said patting his shoulder and the smile on his face froze, frowning slightly Aramis turned just a little so he could follow Athos’s gaze and felt a shiver run down his spine, as he watched Rochefort walk in.


	28. Chapter 28

Rochefort was dressed in a tailored bespoke silk suit with a gold lame tie and a black silk shirt tucked into his trousers that sported a belt with a real gold buckle. 

He paused briefly looking about the gala his eyes roving over everyone present, gauging their usage to him and then dismissing them as worthless. He walked across the polished floor, the hard sole of his shoes making tapping noises not too dissimilar to a woman’s high heeled shoes clacking on the ground. He went straight to the bar and ordered a double dry vodka martini with extra olives. 

“Is your wit the same?” 

Rochefort rose a pale eyebrow at the unexpected question and turned to see an impossibly good looking young man at the bar besides him, sipping champagne and giving him an intentionally flirtatious smile that was all dark sparkling eyes and pearl white teeth. 

He was Hispanic by his colouring, early twenties, certainly not more than twenty-five, if that. But very sexually confident and experienced despite his youth. 

“Excuse me?” Rochefort answered the question 

The young man smiled wider, “You’re drink, Dry vodka martini, I just wondered if your wit was just as dry.”

Rochefort reached into his pocket and took out his wallet, pulling out a twenty dollar bill to pay the barman as he came over with his drink, “Drier,” he replied, “Monsieur?”

“Henri d’Aramitz,” the young man replied, “Though most people call me Ari,”

“Ari,” Rochefort repeated, “Rochefort,” 

“I know,” Aramis said, “I think everyone here knows who you are, and if they don’t they are idiots, you are one of the very few people here worth while paying any attention to after all,”  
Aramis was laying it on thick, just as Milady had suggested, pampering Rochefort’s ego, buttering him up, like all narcissists he responded well to flattery, it was his Achilles heel, his arrogance and pride, they could be easily manipulated and that would lead to his down fall. His inability to see any flaw in himself and belief that he was perfect and could never make a mistake. This meant he would never think up a contingency plan because he wouldn’t think that he could ever fail, therefore there would never be any use for one, and once that fragile stack of cards became unbalanced the whole house would come crashing down around him. 

“So, who are you here with?” Aramis asked draining his champagne glass and setting it on the bar, running the tip of his index finger about the rim, “A man as brilliant and as attractive as you can not possibly be here alone,”

Rochefort didn’t exactly smile but he did seem to warm to the flattery, “Well,” he said taking a drink of his martini, “I’m not alone now am I?” 

Aramis let his smile grow even wider and feigned a look of shock, managing to bring some colour to his cheeks as if he were blushing, “I’m flattered,” he said, “That someone like you would be interested in someone like me,”

Rochefort shrugged, “Who said anything about being interested,” he replied, “But you are nice to look at and you seem fairly amusing, so I won’t mind having you on my arm for this evening,” he looked around, “Assuming of course you are not with anyone?”

Aramis shook his head, “I did come with Athos de la Fare, he hired me to be his arm candy for the night, since his engagement blew up or whatever,” he shrugged, “But the guy’s only interested in the bottle and I don’t feel like baby sitting a drunk no matter how much I’m getting paid, you know?”, he nodded his head towards where Athos was working his way through several drinks and appeared to be swaying on his feet and looking worse for wear. In truth Athos had downed a single glass of champagne, the rest of his drinks were soft drinks, he took champagne from the waiters but tipped it into a funnel he had in his left sleeve which went down into a flask strapped to his thigh through a hollow tube. A second flask supplied him with grape juice and lemonade which made it sparkle like champagne so it appeared as though he was getting hopelessly drunk, when in fact he was stone cold sober. 

“I mean I feel sorry for him,” Aramis said, “He’s been through shit, his parents dying, his Brother getting murdered, his fiancé turning out to be a gold digging psycho, but that ain’t my fault or my problem is it? Why should I have to hold his hand and make him feel better?”

“Quite so,” Rochefort agreed apparently approving of Ari’s shallow opinions, “So I take you are an escort?” 

“High class,” Aramis replied with a beaming smile, “I don’t turn tricks, I leave that to street corner sluts,” he paused and smiled, lowering his long lashes and dropping his voice to a purr, “Unless the man is very, very attractive,”

Rochefort sipped his martini, “And how would you define such a man, Ari?”

“Oh, he’d have to be fairly tall, but not gangly, built but not over muscled, I hate the over muscled type, they look like carnival balloons you know?, and I much prefer blonde to brunet, and pale eyes that seem to reflect other colours,” he reached out and stroked a finger over the sensitive skin over Rochefort’s pulse, “A man rather like yourself,”

Rochefort smirked, “And what are you willing to do for such a man, Ari? Get down on your knees and suck him until your throat is raw, let him bend you over every surface and fuck you until your legs give out and you can’t sit down for a week?” 

Aramis gave an exaggerated shudder, “I love a powerful and commanding man!”

“And you’d do anything for such a man,” Rochefort said suddenly grabbing hold of Aramis’s wrist and holding it tight enough that it was just shy of being painful, “You’d let him tie you up and treat you like a bitch, whip you like a dog, use you and degrade you like a filthy little slut you really are,”

“Only..,” Aramis tried to pull his wrist away but was held tighter, a warning for him to not push his luck too far, “Only if he were very impressive,”, Aramis couldn’t supress a gasp as Rochefort yanked him forward so they were close together and he could whisper in his ear, 

“Go outside, tell the valet that I sent you, he’ll direct you to my Limo, get in and wait for me. Help yourself to any drinks you want but do not get drunk. If you decide to leave then do not bother approaching me again, I am not a patient or understanding man, understand?” 

“Perfectly,” Aramis said and rubbed his wrist as it was released. 

 

*****

 

Confidently Aramis left the bar and made his way to the foyer. “Did you get all that?” he asked quietly into his microphone 

“Loud and clear Hornet,” Athos replied, “I’ll continue to work the party, and warn you when Rochefort’s on his way,” 

“Copy that,” Aramis replied and then graced the valet with a charming smile, “Hi honey, Monsieur Rochefort sent me, said for me to wait for him in his limo?” 

The Valet smiled at him, “Just down the steps and turn left, go into the car park and it’s the white limo with the gold plates,”

“Thank you honey,” Aramis purred, “Aren’t you just the sweetest?” 

“Jesus, you’ll give the man rotten teeth if you give him anymore sugar!” Porthos groaned 

“Jealous?” Aramis teased as he headed in the direction the valet had sent him

“Of a glorified parking attendant? Hardly,” Porthos drawled

“He’s jealous!” d’Artagnan supplied with a snicker

“Shut it brat!”

“Or you’ll what, charge me? Bull-shit!” 

“Flea bitten alley cat!”

“Mad Cow!” 

“For God sake can you idiots at least try to behave like adults for five minutes!?”, this came from an exasperated Treville who was not amused, or at least trying to not be amused by the bantering.

“Well we are dressing up in costumes and engaging in vigilante activities so I wouldn’t hold your breath!” Aramis drawled and fixed another toothy grin on his face as he reached the limo and knocked on the window, the driver rolled it down, “Hi, Monsieur Rochefort said for me to wait for him in the limo,”

The driver clicked a button and the door to the passenger seats opened, “Thank you,” Aramis said, he sauntered to the door and opened it fully, climbing in and settled himself on the seat, “Was it just me or did the driver look familiar?” he asked into the microphone which also had a tiny camera which was recording everything and giving Treville a full visual on the computer screens before him. 

“Oh yeah,” Porthos said, “Little prick worked for Levesque for a while, I kicked the crap out of him a few times, gave him that scar on his face, names Trudeau, low level thug for hire.”

“I thought I recognised him,” Treville said, “I busted him twice, possession of heroin, and car theft,”

“Bit under your pay grade I would have thought,” Athos said, “Oh how are you Muffy? Its been far too long!”

“Muffy?” d’Artagnan asked, “Are you talking to a poodle?” 

“No he’s speaking to a politicians wife!” Treville drawled 

“Called Muffy!” Porthos snorted

“Wanna bet they have a poodle at home called Fifi?” Aramis snickered, he opened the drinks cabinet in the limo and poured himself a vodka tonic

“I don’t like the thought of you going off with Cockroach without backup,” Porthos sighed

“Hello I’m on the mike,” Aramis said sipping his drink

“Not good enough,” Porthos grumbled 

“Which is where I come in!”. 

 

d’Artagnan climbed down from the roof of the hotel, jumping down to the windowsill, then onto the balcony railing which he used to swing down onto the balcony below, then again down to the awning of the ground floor suite and finally dropped to the ground. 

“Mis, keep Trudeau distracted, I’m gonna get in the boot,” he said keeping low and sticking to the shadows as he ran through the car park 

“How?” Aramis asked 

“Oh come on you’re the hooker!” d’Artagnan scoffed, “Give him a frickin’ lap dance if you have to, just do something!” 

Aramis let out a put upon groan and climbed out of the car to head to the driver and tapped on the window again which was rolled down for him, “hey sweetie, you got a smoke I could nab?”. 

 

While Aramis lit up and tried not to choke on the cigarette while making small talk with Trudeau, d’Artagnan crept round to the rear of the limo. Quietly he picked the lock on the trunk and forced it open, climbing inside and closed the lid down behind him. 

“Be careful,” Athos cautioned him 

“Always am,” d’Artagnan said, a complete lie that fooled no one at all!

“Oh here we go,” Athos said quietly then spoke clearly, “Monsieur Rochefort, leaving so early?”, his voice was purposefully slurred and he wobbled on his feet giving the effect that he was drunk for Rochefort’s benefit.

“Some of us have prior commitments, Monsieur de la Fare,” Rochefort replied sounding bored, “My condolences on the loss of your Brother, and fiancé,” Athos made the most pathetic sounding whimpering noise known to man and Rochefort beat a hasty retreat to the door, 

“He’s on his way,” Athos said to Aramis and d’Artagnan, “Good luck and stay in touch.” Taking a deep breath he turned back to the party figuring he’d give it another half an hour then make his own departure, there was only so much socializing he could stomach after all!.


	29. Chapter 29

Rochefort did not say anything to Aramis while they were in the car. Nor when they reached his apartment, he simply climbed out of the car and gestured for Aramis to follow him. 

Feeling almost like a dog being called to heel, Aramis followed, glancing over his shoulder to the boot of the car where d’Artagnan lay concealed for the present. 

‘Be safe kid, please be safe,’ he thought to himself as he following after Rochefort. 

 

He was led up to Rochefort’s bedroom which was as large as Athos’s many bedrooms, but far more opulent and lavish. Where Athos had grown up wealthy, his family having treasures handing down through the generations, and decent taste in styles. Rochefort had no such taste, he, like most of those who had come into money, had the need to flash it to the extreme, filling his home with endless possessions and forms of both classic and modern art as he had to prove that he had wealth. The modern and the classic clashed terribly, the cold metal crome and glass furnishings clashing with the dark wood antique. 

To Aramis it looked like a split personality thrown into day to day life. 

It would not have been so bad had this been put in separate rooms, then it would not have clashed so much, but all muddled together it just looked a mess. 

As Rochefort left, presumably to get them drinks or something, Aramis sat down on the four poster bed with the black velvet drapes and costly silk ties, black silk sheets and pillows, he wondered if perhaps this reflected Rochefort’s mind, a clash of moods and thoughts, maniac and depressive. Was he Bipolar? 

Aramis was no psychiatrist, he couldn’t make such a judgement, but he would bet good money that Rochefort had some kind of pathologic disorder. Sociopathy definitely, and clearly narcissism, but maybe other kinds of mental disturbances? 

Psychiatry was such an interesting field and Aramis wouldn’t mind studying it. Maybe he could talk to Athos about it when he got home? 

“Everything okay?” Porthos asked, making Aramis jump a little, he’d forgotten about the earwig until Porthos spoke.

“So far,” he murmured quietly, and then sat up straight and smiled as Rochefort returned, two drinks in hand, some kind of cocktail, 

“Tequila Sunrise,” he said, handing one over to Aramis who took a sip

“Just so we’re clear, what exactly do you want from me?” Aramis asked

Rochefort rose an eyebrow, “What I want is for you to finish your drink, then I will explain what else I want,” 

Aramis bit his bottom lip and looked at the drink. The problem with date rape drugs was that one couldn’t taste or smell them, there was simply no way for Aramis to know if anything had been put in the drink and if he drank it then he could end up unconscious before he knew it and completely at Rochefort’s mercy. 

“Problem?” Rochefort inquired, when Aramis did not just down the drink the requested

Aramis smiled and showed a little teeth doing so, “I don’t drink much,” he said, “I like to keep a clear head rather than dull my senses.” 

Rochefort considered this for a second and then took the glass and lay it on the highboy, “Very well,” he said unlacing his tie and taking off his jacket, “Now, as for what I want from you…,” he opened the large walk in closet and hung up his jacket on the hanger just inside the door and disappeared into the racks of clothes that stretched both left and right from the doors into narrow corridors that were illuminated by LED lighting revealing rows of suits, shirts, formal evening wear, casual day clothes and even sports wear, likely for when Rochefort worked out. 

Aramis waited, slipping his hands between his knees to keep them from nervously tapping a rhythm on his thighs as his heart rate increased. Somehow Rochefort being outright violent to him would have been easier to deal with than this passive aggressive approach that made him uncertain of what to expect, if it were an open attack he could defend himself, where this subtlety left Aramis on edge as he tried to predict what could be coming. 

 

Presently Rochefort returned from where he gone in the depths of his closet, now undressed save for a pair of silk boxer shorts and a black kimono that was belted loose about his waist with the sides spread wide to reveal his lightly muscled torso and flat abdomen that had a faint hint of a six pack. Rochefort clearly did put in effort at working out, but didn’t bother to work himself half to death in a gym to get the Hollywood six pack. If Aramis had not thoroughly hated the man then he would have been impressed by him and his healthy physique, but as it was he had force a smile and give lascivious looks at the other man instead of being naturally attracted to him. 

“I have something I want you to wear,” Rochefort said, from behind his back he revealed an outfit that had Aramis struggling not to laugh. 

Narcissist he maybe, bordering on psychopathic too, but when it came to kinks it seemed he pretty vanilla!

The outfit was a leather waist-cincher under-bust corset in black, a lace black teddy that was slashed up to the bust, a lace thong, a pair of suspenders, and a set of fishnet stockings. 

 

“This too,” he said revealing a blind fold, “But I will apply it myself,”

Aramis smiled and took the outfit from Rochefort, “As you wish,” he said, “Where shall I change?”, Rochefort gestured to the bathroom adjacent to his room and Aramis made a beeline for it, shutting the door behind him and taking a sigh of relief as he had a minutes privacy. 

“d’Art, everything okay?” he asked in a whisper, toeing off his shoes, 

“We’re cool,” d’Artagnan replied, “What’s shit face got you doing, obvious you’re not sucking anything if you’re talking!”

“Wash your mouth out with soap young man!” Aramis scolded , unable to keep from smiling as he undid his tie and shirt slipping it off and set to work on his trousers,

“Heads up, we’re heading your way,” Porthos said, cutting into the conversation, 

“Who’s we?” Aramis asked 

“Me and Athos,” Porthos replied, “We’ll hang around close to Rochefort’s in case there’s trouble,”

“There won’t be trouble,” Aramis said slipping on the suspenders and stockings, then the thong and teddy, the corset took some lacing and Aramis’s little fingers were left sore from friction burns before it was done, “How did they do this day in, day out years ago?” he muttered to himself,

“Do what?” Athos inquired,

“Corsets!” Aramis immediately regretted saying this as his ear was filled with three sets of laughter, “Oh fuck the lot of you!” he muttered grumpily. Taking a deep breath he fixed a sultry look on his face and left the bathroom, finding Rochefort standing before the bed with the blindfold and a set of handcuffs, 

“Get on the bed,” he instructed in an emotionless monotone. 

As experienced as he was, Aramis couldn’t help but feel some trepidation at being deprived of his eyesight and restrained, this was not something he had done before, he’d turned tricks time and again, but he’d always been able to move freely and had all his senses available. 

Swallowing back his nervousness he climbed onto the bed, giving Rochefort a good view of his backside as he settled himself against the pillows and exhaled, trying to relax as Rochefort applied the blindfold and then the cuffs. 

 

*****

 

D’Artagnan waited in the boot of the car for a full ten minutes before he pried open the lock and climbed out. 

Keeping low so he would go better undetected he hurried along through the shadows of the garage to the door that led into the house, a quick check revealed a security alarm that would be tripped if a code wasn’t put in, while Porthos had taught him to pick locks, he hadn’t taught him to crack codes like this. 

Pursing his lips d’Artagnan turned and headed across the garage to the metal door, this too was locked but easily picked and he managed to slide it open enough to slip underneath and out into the open air. Quietly he set the door back down and dusted off his hands looking up at the building. The lights were on in the front room and there were shadows behind the curtains, Rochefort’s staff/thugs no doubt, d’Artagnan didn’t want to get into a fight unless strictly necessary so he avoided going anywhere near there. 

Backing up he bent his knees and ran at full speed at the garage, leaped up and grabbed hold of the roof top, swinging himself up into a hand stand he then flipped over into a wheel position and righted himself. He sprinted across the rooftop and took ahold of the drain pipe that was on the wall of the main building, using it he climbed up onto the roof and made his way across to the double breasted chimney. 

Looking down the dark space he debated for only a moment, then he climbed down inside. 

Pressing his back to one side and his feet to the other he carefully inched his way down the chimney. Were he claustrophobic he could never have stood this, but he was not and the cramped, dark space did not bother him in the least. 

Briefly he spoke with Aramis, Athos, and Porthos, shared a laugh over Aramis being put in a corset as he made his way down the chimney to the first fire place he came across, where in a cloud of soot he stepped out into a darkened room. 

The desire to cough was great but he didn’t dare, in case someone heard him and was alerted to his presence in the house. Swallowing hard he blinked back the tears that pricked his eyes and looked about the room. 

 

It was a sitting room by the looks of it, the large corner suite and the coffee table, the TV and the well stocked bar which was giving light from the illuminated shelves which gave the room an creep blue glow. 

“Think he’s got anything incriminating in his office?” he whispered into the earwig 

“Probably,” Athos said, “But for God Sakes be careful,” 

“Always,” d’Artagnan replied. 

 

Quietly he made his way over to the door and carefully opened it. Downstairs he could hear laughter and talking, Rochefort’s goons, there was a light on in one of the rooms down the long corridor, probably Rochefort’s bedroom. D’Artagnan had half a mind to go in there and club Rochefort over the head with something and spare Aramis this misery. But that would get them nowhere and Aramis could handle himself well enough, so he swallowed down the impulse and made his way to the room opposite this one. A bathroom, utterly useless to him. 

The next was just a boiler room, then there was Rochefort’s bedroom. 

Turning his attention to the rooms on the right hand side of the corridor he went past the kitchen suspecting that there was nothing in there he would need and went to the room at the end of the corridor. This was Rochefort’s office. 

Grinning now, d’Artagnan made his way to the desk and opened the laptop, “Hey Treville, you any good at hacking PCs?” he asked 

“I might be able to help,” Athos said, “What have you found?”

“Rochefort’s laptop,” d;Artagnan replied turning it on, “It’s password encrypted of course, but I’ll bet there’s lots of juicy files to find on here,”

“Alright, let me talk you through a basic hack that’ll get you onto his desk top,” Athos said 

“Once you’ve done so, send the files straight to our E-Mail,” Treville stated, “Don’t bother looking at what they are just send the lot,” 

“Yahuh!”. 

 

*****

 

A simple hack it might be for some, but to d’Artagnan it seemed to take forever before he was finally into Rochefort’s desktop and opening his file folders. Bringing up the e-mail he set about making a series of e-mails, sending back up copies to the e-mail that Athos had set up for MUSKETEERS. 

He had just finished sending the last file and was shutting the lap top down when he heard Aramis scream!


	30. Chapter 30

D’Artagnan paused for a moment, but only a moment as he made his decision. The files had been sent to Treville, so d’Artagnan was free to go to Aramis’s aid without risking the plan. 

He tore back down the corridor that was echoing with screams and ran into the bedroom, the sight that greeted him shocked him enough to have him freezing for a moment. 

 

Rochefort had Aramis cuffed to the bed, blind folded, completely at his mercy. He had flipped Aramis over so he was lain on his belly, painfully pulling his shoulders and twisting his wrists when he was turned over. 

Rochefort was standing over him, his legs spread wide as he wielded a bolo whip that he was using on Aramis mercilessly. Bloody wounds were striped down Aramis’s back, across his buttocks and over his thighs. Aramis was sobbing, begging for mercy as he wept into the pillow beneath his face, he was choking on his tears, beyond words to beg for mercy, something he would not have received from Rochefort anyway. 

“Whats wrong whore?” Rochefort asked, “Can’t you take it?” he laughed cruelly, “I thought you were into everything, that you liked being dominated by a strong man.”

“You’re not a man,”

Rochefort paused as he wielded the whip, turning his head and was met with boot to the face as d’Artagnan leaped up and delivered a round house kick that sent him toppling from the bed and crashing down onto the floor with blood running from his temple where it had been split open. 

“You’re a fucking psychopathic freak!” The boy spat at him, literally hawking and spitting down onto Rochefort’s face.

“D’Art?” Aramis whimpered, “That you?”

Turning back to Aramis d’Artagnan climbed up onto the bed removed Aramis’s blind fold, then made short work of picking the lock on the cuffs to free his friend, “Are you okay?” he asked, as Aramis turned around wincing as he did so. The bed sheet was wet with blood that was continuing to flow from his sliced open back, buttocks, and thighs.

“I’ll live,” he grunted and looked down at himself in disgust, the corset had been removed to bare his back to Rochefort’s whip, but he was still dressed in the teddy, thong, and stockings.   
“For the love of God get my clothes from the bathroom will you?” he asked. 

d’Artagnan shook his head, “No time, we need to get the fuck out of here now.” He grabbed Aramis’s bruised wrist and pulled him forward off the bed, and dragged him to the door. He paused, sticking his head out of the door to check the coast was clear. 

“I don’t suppose you can climb up a chimney in your condition can you?” he asked glancing at Aramis who rolled his eyes, 

“Even if I were in the peak of health I couldn’t climb a damn chimney.” Aramis retorted,

“Window it is then.” D’Artagnan said pulling Aramis along to the office he had just vacated. This time however he shut and locked the door behind them to buy them a little time to escape. 

“Guys what the fuck is going on?” Porthos bellowed into the coms,

“We’re cool, we’re getting out now,” d’Artagnan replied going over to the window,

“No, we are not cool, I’ve when whipped and now I’ve got to climb out a damn window to escape!” Aramis corrected, “And I look like a lingerie model with an S&M fetish for God sake!”

d’Artagnan paused in opening the window and snickered at Aramis’s attire, “Oh shut up brat.” Aramis snapped at him. 

“Are you alright?” Porthos asked, “How bad are you hurt?”

“I’m sore as fuck, but I don’t need a hospital,”

“He does need a hospital,” d’Artagnan said as he secured the grappling hook of his lasso to the window ledge. 

“Tell tale,” Aramis grumbled, he looked out of the window and winced at the drop, he really didn’t want to do this. 

“You go first,” d’Artagnan said, “I’ll keep a hold of the hook and make sure you get down safely.” 

“Me? What about you?” Aramis asked worriedly, d’Artagnan rolled his eyes, 

“I can scale the wall if I need to, now go on.”

 

*****

 

With a throbbing head and blood on his face, Rochefort came to on the floor of his bedroom. For a moment he was confused as to what had happened and why he was laying on the floor like this. Then he remembered Aramis, remembered having him on the bed at his mercy, remembered whipping him, turning that smooth olive skin crimson with blood, only to have someone burst into his bedroom and kick him in the face!

Getting up from the floor dizziness assailed Rochefort and he staggered, falling back to his knees as the world swam before his eyes. His head ached angrily and he wanted to give into the desire to curl up and go to sleep just to get away from the pain. But he couldn’t, he had to get his hands on that whore and make him pay, and whomever had kicked him.

 

Forcing himself back to his feet he stumbled to the door and into the hallway shouting as he went. “Guards, get up here you useless sacks of shit, get here now!”

Turning on the light in the hall made his eyes hurt all the more and his vision blurred, doubling and spinning as he tried to focus. There was blood on the carpet, a trail of it leading to his office.

“Bastards!” he whispered clumsily running to the door and throwing himself against it, “Open up!” he bellowed, pulling himself back and body slamming against the door again, he was too concussed to do anything more constructive than this, his brain wasn’t capable of higher reasonings, just basic instinct that had him trying to beat the door open with his fists and torso.

“Boss!”

“Oh, shit,”

“What the fuck?” His guards cried as they ran down the hall to him, one of the grabbing hold of him and pulling him back from the door, supporting his weight as his legs gave out under him.

“The whore,” he said, sagging against the broad chest of his guard, “Get the whore, and his friend,”

“Boss?”

“They’re in there!” Rochefort shouted pointing at the door to his office, “Get them!”

 

 

*****

 

D’Artagnan jumped as soon as he heard Rochefort shouting and looked down the lasso that Aramis was still slowly climbing down. Aramis was not as confident at climbing as he was, even less so since Porthos had fallen so he was taking a long time in getting down the wall. 

“Hurry it up will you?” d’Artagnan called, jumping again as a loud bang on the door.

“What’s wrong?” Athos asked with concern in his voice, 

“I’m gonna have company soon,” d’Artagnan said glancing over his shoulder at the door that was being pounded on, “Cockroach is awake and his fuckwits are coming.”

“Shit!” This came from Porthos, “Hold on guys we’re coming,”

“Just get the car ready,” d’Artagnan hissed, “Mis, when you reach the ground, run,”

“What about you?” Aramis asked trying to speed up his descent as best he could.

“I’ll be fine, you’re hurt, you need a Doctor, don’t wait for me.”

“d’Art..,”

“Mis just do it!”

 

d’Artagnan waited until Aramis had reached the ground then yanked his whip back up just as the door to the office burst open and Rochefort’s guards came in. 

The first one through the door had the gun knocked from his hand by d’Artagnan’s whip which was then wrapped about his throat and he was yanked across the room and kicked across the face by d’Artagnan. 

The next d’Artagnan tackled with his claws, slicing open the mans face and delivering blows to his ribs that disabled him, he also got his hands on the mans gun and used it on the third guard, shooting him in the leg just above the knee to bring him down but not kill him, the fourth and fifth guard fired their guns at him, the bullets hitting his chest and stomach but not penetrating the armour of his suit, it was however enough to send him staggering back and falling to the floor at which point the thugs were upon him and attacking him. 

Already winded from the bullets hitting him d'Artagnan wasn't able to put up much of a fight, and the men weren't letting him do so, they kicked him in the stomach, the ribs, grabbed him by the wrists to lift him up and punch his face repeatedly until he lost consciousness.

"What should we do with this one, Frankie?" one of them asked,

"Tie up and leave him on ice somewhere," Frankie, the one who'd had his face cut open spat, "The boss'll want to deal with him personally when he wakes up."

 

 

*****

 

Aramis hated leaving, especially when he heard the sound of gunshots, but right now he was hardly in a position to take on a load of gun fighters, besides which, Porthos and Athos were close by and could help. Ignoring the pain and the increasing feeling of weakness he ran down the street, not stopping until he reached the limo where Porthos and Athos were waiting. 

"What the hell is going on?" Porthos cried whipping off his jakcet and wrapping it around Aramis, "Oh God love, your back!" he groaned when he saw the mess Aramis was in.

"I'll be fine," Aramis panted, "Its d'Art, he hasn't made it out and I heard gun fire."

Athos exchanged a worried look with Porthos, "We have to go in for him," He said 

"No, get back here now!" Treville ordered,

"But d'Artagnan...,"

"Will be alright," Treville said, cutting Athos off, "You need more fire power than you've currently got to storm that place, d'Artagnan is a fighter, he'll hang on until we can make a plan of attack."

"We don't know that Rochefort won't just kill him." Atahos growled clenching his teeth, 

"We can summise that he'll want to interrogate him first," Treville said sensibly, "Now get back here, the faster we load up on weapons and make plans, the sooner we're in there and d'Artagnan is safe."

 

Athos didn't like it, neither did Aramis or Porthos, but they knew Treville was right, if they were to save d'Artagnan and not just become prisoners themselves they needed more weaponry than they currently had, so, however reluctant they might be they did as Treville said and got into the limo to return to the manor, praying d'Artagnan would be alright until they got back to him.


	31. Chapter 31

La Fare Manor

 

Treville had a first aid kit ready for Aramis when Athos and Porthos brought him home. Aramis had refused to go to the hospital, even though both Porthos and Athos had pleaded with him to do so. While not deep, the lashes on his back, buttocks, and back of his thighs were plentiful and he had still lost a fair amount of blood and was in a considerable amount of pain. 

When the Limo pulled up outside the manor, Athos had to help Aramis out of the car, and between them, he and Porthos half carried him to the house. Adrenaline had kept him going when he’d been escaping from Rochefort’s apartment, but now that had passed, he’d grown cold and stiff in the car and was finding moving difficult. 

“You should have gone straight to the hospital,” Treville said, as Aramis was brought into the kitchen, where he had the first aid kit laid out, complete with surgical spirit, pain killers, and anti-biotics. 

“Just patch me up and I’ll be fine.” Aramis grunted, wincing as he was laid down, face first on the table. Porthos folded his jacket up and placed it under Aramis’s head to serve as a pillow. 

“Does he need stitches?” Athos asked, looking at the lashes, 

Treville scowled at them, “I don’t think so,” he said, washing his hands in surgical spirit and put on a pair of latex gloves to be doubly sure that he wouldn’t give Aramis an infection. 

“Porthos, can you disinfect Aramis’s left arm for me?” he asked, getting one of the pre-filled morphine syringes ready to give Aramis a dose of pain relief before he started disinfecting the wounds, which would sting like hell. 

“Gotcha.” Porthos said, he applied a little disinfectant to the flesh of Aramis’s arm ready for the syringe. He took his lovers hand for Aramis to hold onto as the needle pierced his skin and the pain relief was given. 

“We’ll give that a few minutes to kick in, then I’ll start disinfecting these, and getting them patched up.” Treville said. 

“Don’t wait,” Aramis said, turning his head so he could look at Treville, “We need to get back to d’Artagnan.” 

“We will pet,” Porthos soothed, running his hands through Aramis’s hair, “Take it easy and let us take care of you.”

Athos lowered his fingers from his lips, where he’d been tapping them nervously on his mouth. “I’m going to go and take a look at those files,” he said, “See what I can get out of them.”

Aramis turned a cheeky grin on him, “Scared of a little blood you wuss!” he snickered as Athos flipped him off as he walked out of the door. Sighing, he turned back to Treville, “Will I scar?” he asked, a little afraid of this, while he didn’t care about what others thought of him, he did care what Porthos thought, if Porthos would find him attractive, and he’d always said that his bubble butt was his best feature…,

“Maybe,” Treville said, “It’ll depend on how well you heal. You’re young, you have young healthy skin, you may get away without scarring, and they will fade anyway.”

“You’ll have some wicked war wounds to show off, pet,” Porthos said, his tone reassuring, easily able to guess that Aramis had been worried about what he would think, but Porthos didn’t care about scars, scars were just discoloured skin, they weren’t anything to fear or be repulsed by and they didn’t bother him at all. 

“Still think I’m sexy?” Aramis asked, he tried to sound teasing but, there was a note if uncertainty in his voice that Porthos didn’t miss, and he bent down to kiss Aramis’s cheek,

“Always,” he promised. Aramis smiled and yawned, the medication was starting to have an effect on him, along with the blood loss. 

“Lets get started,” Treville said, he poured some surgical spirit on cotton wool and began to carefully clean each welt slowly and thoroughly, “Sorry,” he murmured, as Aramis winced at the sting he still had from the touch of the anti-septic. 

It was a long process, it took nearly an hour of Treville to clean the wounds, then another thirty minutes for Treville to apply the surgical glue to close the wounds, then to dress them in adhesive packs to keep them protected. By this time Aramis had grown increasingly drowsy and was almost falling asleep. 

“Lets get you to bed.” Porthos whispered into his ear, and Aramis let out a sleepy protest that was half hearted at best as he was lifted up into Porthos’s arms and carried to their bedroom. 

 

Porthos stripped the teddy, thong, and stockings from Aramis, and placed him in one of his t-shirts that was big enough on Aramis to act as a night shirt and would be comfy on him to sleep in. 

“Gotta get d’Art.” Aramis mumbled, as he was laid in the bed and the duvet was tucked up under his chin,

“Hush pet, its fine,” Porthos said, kissing his forehead, “Go to sleep, we’ll save d’Art soon.”

Aramis hummed, unable to fight the need to sleep anymore and succumbed, slipping into the welcoming darkness at last. 

Sighing, Porthos straightened up and ran a hand over his face. He hated this. His boyfriend was in pain, was seriously hurt and his pseudo brother/son was being held prisoner a sadist. This was the definition of a nightmare, a complete nightmare. The worst part being that he couldn’t do anything right now. He couldn’t do as he wanted and march into Rochefort’s and beat anything that got in his way into a bloody pulp. If he did, then Rochefort would likely just kill d’Art outright and that was the last thing Porthos wanted. He had to be patient, had to let Athos and Treville come up with a plan so they could save d’Artagnan, and hopefully destroy Rochefort in the process. 

 

*****

 

D’Artagnan awoke in a darkened room, tied tightly to a chair, duct tape over his mouth, and ropes about his body, along with more binding his ankles and wrists to the chair to make any escape attempt as difficult as possible. 

He let out a long groan through his nose and squirmed as best he could, it didn’t get him anywhere, he was too securely bound to do more than rub the skin of his wrist and ankles. That was another thing, he’d been stripped down to his boxers leaving him all but naked and very vulnerable. 

As young as he was, and as sexually inexperienced, d’Artagnan was still rather shy about his body, wasn’t comfortable showing it off the way Aramis was, so being this stripped down set him on edge, or more on edge considering he was already pretty anxious with being held prisoner like this. 

D’Artagnan made himself stay calm, breathing through his nose, slow deep breaths to keep from getting too panicky, he would get no where if he gave into a panic attack, he would be doing Rochefort and his assholes job for them if he freaked out, staying calm, however difficult it was, he had to keep it together so he could find the first opportunity to escape, or, if he couldn’t escape, make things as difficult for Rochefort as possible. 

 

As his eyes adjusted to the dark he looked about the room he was in. It was small, stuffed with objects and furniture, nothing of use or in use, a storage room. 

He couldn’t see a clock anywhere and probably couldn’t have read it even if he had in this darkness, he didn’t know how long he’d been here, how long he’d been unconscious, he would guess it’d be a few hours considering how stiff he felt and how swollen his injuries were. Also, how painful they were. 

He had broken ribs for certain, his face ached, and his arms and legs twinge from both being tied up like this, and being slapped about by Rochefort’s assholes. At least he wasn’t feeling dizzy, nor was he feeling sick, so his concussion couldn’t be too bad, though he did feel groggy and his head ached. 

He couldn’t hear anything outside, so if anyone was talking they were doing it well away from him. This waiting for something to happen was almost worse than it actually happening, because it gave his imagination too long to get active and start picturing the worst case scenario. 

He refused to let it get hold, refused to think that Aramis, Athos, and Porthos had also been captured, that they were in a similar state, or worse, had been killed already. He firmly told himself that they had got away and were working on a plan to save him. All he had to do was be calm and wait and then everything would be fine. 

He hoped so at least. 

 

*****

 

Rochefort awoke in his bed with an ice pack on his face. 

He scowled angrily, “The whore, his friend,” he snarled as his eyes met Frankie’s 

“The whore’s gone boss, but his little mate is here, we’ve got him tied up all ready for you.” 

Rochefort grunted, he sat up and rubbed his head which still ached, “”Bring him too me,” he said getting to his feet, “I’m going to get some answers from him.”

 

While Frankie went to get the prisoner, Rochefort took the time to drink the coffee that was being warmed on a hotplate in his room and changed into black jeans and a black shirt which he left unbuttoned to his breast bone. 

He looked in his mirror and glared at his reflection. His face was a mess, swollen and mottled with livid bruising from the kick he’d received the night before. 

“That little brat is going to pay for this,” he spat angrily, and he cracked his knuckles, “I’ll make him wish he’d never been born.”

 

The tape was left over d’Artagnan’s mouth as he was carried into the bedroom and thrown down onto the floor, knocking the air out of him and making his ribs jar painfully,   
“Fuckers!” he snarled from behind the tape 

“I’m sorry,” Rochefort said, taking hold of the tape and ripping it off so hard d’Artagnan’s lips were split open, “What was that?”

d’Artagnan spat into the mans face and glared at him, “Fuck you pervert!” 

Rochefort chuckled, he looked almost amused by this, then quick as a flash his fist hit d’Artagnan’s cheek sending him toppling back onto the floor, before he even had a chance to recover his senses he was yanked up by his hair, his scalp burning in pain by the force of it and was held face to face to Rochefort, 

“You interrupted my fun last night,” he growled, “You ruined my enjoyment, that alone I will make you suffer for, but you also broke in here, probably to steal…,” he paused and took a good look at d’Artagnan, a slow and twisted smirk spread over his lips, “You’re that little brat aren’t you?” he said, “The one who tripped Milady up, the gutter trash in the alley that night.”

d’Artagnan pressed his lips into a hard line and glared at Rochefort, neither denying or confirming anything. 

Rochefort chuckled, “Oh, this will make this all the more enjoyable.” He said, looking over d’Artagnan’s shoulders to Frankie and the thug at his side and spoke to them, “Get him chained to the bed, what I missed out on with his whore friend, I’m going to enjoy on him.”

d’Artagnan’s eyes widened, his determination to stay calm forgotten as he realized what Rochefort intended to do to him, “No!”, he tried to struggle, tried to fight, but with his arms and legs bound he couldn’t move much. He managed to get a few kicks and hits in as the ropes were cut away and replaced with cuffs, but it didn’t afford him anything, and all too soon he was face first on Rochefort’s bed and heard the crack of the bolo whip hitting the wall as Rochefort flexed his arm. 

Closing his eyes d’Artagnan clenched his teeth and braced himself. 

 

*****

 

La Fare Manor

 

Athos rubbed his eyes with his fingers and turned and twisted his hands to ease the cramps in his wrists from hours of typing. Rochefort’s files were extensive and it was taking time to hack through the encryptions to gain access to them. So far he’d found a handful of mild tax frauds that a good lawyer could argue were evasions and few questionable business moves, but nothing that would interest a judge or the police enough to investigate further. They needed extreme crimes before anything would be done, proof of extortion, kidnap, murder, something severe that would make a judge sign a warrant on a search of Rochefort’s premises and have the Police pull their fingers out their backsides. 

Amazingly Milady, who was sat beside him, was being helpful rather than snide about things going to shit. Perhaps it had been the look on his face that had warned her not to push him any further, brutal she might be, stupid she was not. 

“I’ll get us some more coffee,” she said, getting to her feet and taking their cups, on her way to the kitchen she passed the dining room where Porthos and Treville was checking all the weapons, loading, sharpening, and preparing to go to war. 

Silently she went to the kitchen and filled the cups with more coffee wondering once again if she was doing the right thing in helping them, and then reminding herself that she had very little choice in the matter, and if they succeeded in bringing Rochefort down, she would be made for life with the money she was getting from Athos. It was a big gambol, but one she was willing to play, she just had to hope it paid off. 

Mixing the cream and sugar into the coffees she headed back to the study where Athos had just opened and new file and was staring avidly at the screen which displayed images of Thomas, snap shots of him going about his daily routines, a copy of his diary and list of appointments, with e-mail attachments between herself and Rochefort discussing options on dealing with Thomas and finally the order to kill him. 

Athos was rigid in his seat, staring at the screen, his fists balled tight and white knuckled. 

Milady carefully set down the coffee and spoke very quietly, her body poised to react the second Athos moved. “That will be enough for a warrant.”

Athos turned sharpely, his eyes glimmering with unshed tears and his face a mask of betrayed anger and hurt as he stared at her impassive features, 

“D’Artagnan,” she said firmly, reminding him of the boy depending on him right now.

Athos’s jaw clicked under the pressure of his clenched teeth, he wanted to lash out, wanted to hurt Milady as she had hurt him, was still hurting him. But d’Artagnan was depending on him, needed him, that, right now was more important than anything else, and slowly he let out a breath, letting his anger deflate. 

“Get Treville,” he said, turning back to the screen, “Lets get a move on this, I don’t want d’Art with Rochefort any longer than necessary.”

Letting out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, Milady silently went to get Treville, just as eager as Athos for this to finally be over.


	32. Chapter 32

Treville didn’t mess around. He took the evidence with Athos and Porthos to the judge who he’d gone to for the deal with Milady, and got a warrant to search any and all of Rochefort’s holdings, and an arrest warrant for the man himself and his staff. 

Within an hour of doing so the police had been summoned. The Judge, not taking any chances, hand picked the officers with Treville’s recommendations, so there would be no last minute mistakes that could cost them Rochefort’s arrest. 

While they knew Aramis would be furious at being excluded, they couldn’t not wait for him to awaken from his drugged sleep, and he was not in any condition to aid them right now. So Athos had called Dr Lemay to watch over Aramis in their absence, along with two officers that Treville trusted, just until Rochefort and his merry band of asshole were taken care of. 

 

*****

 

“Now, there is a young boy being held by Rochefort,” Treville said, to the officers, “He is the priority here, we are to get him out alive and if at all possible unharmed, though we can not rule out that he might have been injured by Rochefort already.”

“Especially considering what he did to Mis,” Porthos grunted 

Treville nodded, conceding this, “We know they are armed, so exercise extreme precaution. Do not fire unless absolutely necessary, but if you have to do so then take the shot.”

The officers were all armed, they were also wearing body armour. The Judge had issued temporary licences to Athos and Porthos that deputized them to go in with the Police and help with the arrests. 

“We go in quiet, no sirens, no announcing our presence until we’re ready.” Treville ordered, “The only warning they get is when we brake down the door. Understood?” 

“Yes Sir.” 

“Very well,” Treville cocked his gun and holstered it, “Lets get this done.”

 

*****

 

D’Artagnan was no stranger to pain. In his short life he had experienced pain many times. 

Both physical and emotional. But neither had prepared him for Rochefort’s brand of sadism. 

The whipping was bad enough, that tore his flesh, left red raw and bleeding wounded down his back, that continued to sluggishly bleed down his sides and drip onto the bedding beneath him. 

The pain of the whipping burned even after the lashing had stopped, for a time d’Artagnan’s entire back felt like it was aflame. But slowly the pain receded, it became duller, still there but less extreme. 

That was when Rochefort started his next act. 

Matches. 

He had a box full of them. Lit them and set them on d’Artagnan’s thighs. 

The young man yelped and squirmed, burying his face into the pillow and crying for the pain that Rochefort took pleasure in inflicting upon him. 

“You just couldn’t leave well enough alone, could you?” he jeered, lighting a match and letting it fall, “You had to poke you nose into that which didn’t concern you,”

d’Artagnan panted and turned his head, glaring at Rochefort, “A murder concerns everyone,” he snarled,

Rochefort snorted, “People are murdered every day, people die every day. It happens, and the world continues to turn.” He lit another match and let it fall, “It hardly matters, most people don’t give it another thought,” another match, “But you,” he light another match, not even letting the last burn out before he dropped this one, “A gutter side thief, an orphaned wretch whose own death would matter no one at all, just couldn’t let it go.” He lit three matches at once and let them fall onto d’Artagnan’s buttocks. 

D’Artagnan screamed and bucked his hips but couldn’t dislodge the matches, that continued to burn until they ran out of wood. 

“If you had only walked away then you wouldn’t be here now, would you?” Rochefort crooned, he lay a palm flat over d’Artagnan’s burned thigh and squeeze, painfully hard, “You could have gone about your business and that would have been that. You wouldn’t be here now, at my mercy, your pathetic friends would be safe, and none of this would have happened.” He leaned down to whisper into d’Artagnan’s ear, “I just want you to know, that you brought this on yourself. That you have no one but yourself, to blame for all of this.”

Breathing heavily, d’Artagnan pushed himself up, his face was tear streaked and reddened, his mouth was trembling and damp with his tears and blood, from where he had bitten them, but his eyes shone with courage, and his voice was filled with a fierce defiance. 

“No,” he said, bearing his teeth, “The only person to blame is you.” Filling his mouth with spittle he spat into Rochefort’s face!

Rochefort recoiled momentarily, then lashed out once again, back handing d’Artagnan’s face and slapped the back of his head, hard enough, that d’Artagnan saw stars. 

“I thought for a moment that I might take pity on you,” Rochefort said, stomping across his room and going into his wardrobe again, and taking up a long bladed hunting knife, “I thought perhaps you have suffered enough, that you could just die and that would be it. But no, not you, you just have to make it worse on yourself, don’t you?” 

“Fuck you,” d’Artagnan spat, shooting Rochefort a hateful glare, as the man unsheathed the knife he glared, “Go on then, do your worst you freak, I’m not afraid of you.”

Rochefort smiled like a shark, “You will be begging me before the end, child, I promise you that.”

 

*****

 

Athos and Porthos rode with Treville in one of the unmarked Police vans. They were making sure not to announce their presence with marked cars, and disembarked quietly, making their way to both the front door, and the back door, with officers carrying metal battering rams to take the door down. 

“On my signal,” Treville whispered into his radio, he looked over his shoulder at Athos and Porthos, both their guns at the ready, and were poised for action, “You two go straight for d’Artagnan,” he ordered, “Leave the rest for us.”

“Understood,” Athos agreed, and Porthos nodded. 

“On one, two, THREE!” 

The doors burst open and the police charged in. 

“Police, get down on the ground with your hands over your head Now!” Treville bellowed, as they all charged inside. 

 

Rochefort’s men were caught off guard, several had been asleep, fell from their bed, naked, or only in boxer shorts, fumbling for the guns, as the doors to their small rooms were kicked open and officers burst in on them, aiming guns at their heads and ordering them to get down or risk being shot. 

One made the mistake of going for his gun and trying to fire, but the officer arresting him was too fast, and a bullet to the shoulder took him down without killing him. 

The guards who were awake, had been in the kitchen making breakfast and drinking coffee. 

As the police burst in, coffee cups were knocked from the table, down onto the floor, where they shattered, spilling their contents which one of the guards slipped in, falling and hitting his head on the corner of the table. 

Moaning in pain, he gripped his bleeding head, as his fellows attempted to run. 

The one that had been cooking at the stove attempted to use the breakfast, hot oil, and frying pan as a weapon, flinging it at the advancing officers. The one in the lead used his baton to deflect the pan, and hissed, as hot oil spattered his hands and face. 

The guards ran, firing their guns blindly behind them. 

“Boss!” Frankie yelled, “Boss it’s the pigs!” He made an attempt to get to the stairs, but was brought down by a shot to thigh, turning his fired his gun, emptying the magazine and took down several officers, though their Kevlar vests saved their lives, and once his magazine was spent he had no chance to reload, three guns were aimed at his head, while a fourth officer read him his rights and cuffed his wrists. 

 

Meanwhile, Athos and Porthos charged on up the stairs, shouting d’Artagnan’s name as they went. 

Porthos kicked open the doors, while Athos went into first, Porthos covering his back, both of them leading with their guns. 

Aside from the noise from downstairs, as the goons were arrested or shot, the apartment was strangely silent. Too silent. Exchanging a glance the two of them continued on down the hall, to the final door and kicked it open, stopping dead upon entering the room. 

 

*****

 

La Fare Manor

 

Aramis’s head felt heavy and his limbs like jelly when he awoke. 

He was laying on his front, his arms curled up around the pillow beneath his head. Blinking and feeling like his eyelids had lead weights on them, he shifting and winced. His back hurt, the lashes pulling and stinging, while the muscles ached along with the tendons in his arms and neck. Forcing himself to continue to move he noticed that his buttocks and thighs were also just as painful, and didn’t appreciate his movements. 

Frowning, Aramis looked around. 

“Port?” he called out, clearing his throat he called out again, louder, “Porthos?”

 

From behind Aramis, Dr Lemay stirred from where he’d fallen asleep in the chair by the bed. 

“Hey, now, its alright,” he said, going round to the other side of the bed and carefully easing Aramis back down, “You need to rest,” he said, picking up the glass of water on the night standing and making Aramis drink at least half the glass before he set it down again, 

“Where is everyone?” he asked, “Where’s Porthos?”

Lemay didn’t answer right away, instead he filled a syringe with morphine, disinfected Aramis’s shoulder and applied the needle, “This will help you sleep, and ease the pain,” 

Aramis frowned, he wanted to keep questioning, but he was so tired, so very tired, and new dose of pain killer just added to that. He couldn’t resist laying his head on the pillow again and letting Lemay tuck him in. 

“d’Artagnan,” he murmured, sleepily, “Gotta save him.”

“They will Aramis,” Lemay said, smoothing Aramis’s hair back from his face, “Sleep, and they’ll be home soon.”


	33. Chapter 33

Rochefort, while sadistic and murderous, was not a complete idiot.   
Upon hearing the commotion going on down stairs, he had acted. Unchaining d’Artagnan from the bed, but keeping his wrists bound, he dragged the young man from the bed and threw him towards the wardrobe. 

d’Artagnan fell to the floor, unable to get his balance right away, Rochefort was not in patient mood and kicked the back of d’Artagnan’s thighs, hitting burns and making him howl for the pain of both the blow and the treatment of his already wounded flesh. 

“Move!” Rochefort barked, grabbing d’Artagnan’s cuffed wrists and flinging him into the wardrobe. Again, d’Artagnan stumbled, but managed to keep from falling by grabbing hold of a couple of Rochefort’s shirts, he thought about putting up a fight, struggling with Rochefort, but the thought was gone the second he heard the unmistakable sound of a gun being cocked behind him. 

“Move, or I’ll blow your head off,” Rochefort growled, pushing the barrel of the gun between d’Artagnan’s shoulder blades. 

“What, and lose yourself a bargaining chip?” d’Artagnan jeered, guessing easily the reason Rochefort had decided to take him along instead of just killing him. 

Rochefort shoved the gun into his back again, hitting a welt and making d’Artagnan hiss in pain, “Don’t flatter yourself boy,” he spat, urging d’Artagnan on. 

“D’Artagnan!” 

d’Artagnan recognized Athos’ voice and grinned, he threw a smirk over his shoulder at Rochefort, “You are so screwed now!” 

Snarling, Rochefort pistol whipped d’Artagnan, cracking his cheek bone with the force of the blow, d’Artagnan’s head spun and he would have fallen, had it not been for Rochefort wrapping an arm about his chest and pulling him into a firm hold, with the gun pressed against his temple. 

 

*****

 

The blood stained bed linen and the lack of people in the bedroom had worried both Athos and Porthos, there was a lot of blood on the bed, too much, okay, so some of it could have been Aramis’s, but both suspected that some was d’Artagnan’s.

“I’ll fucking kill ‘im,” Porthos growled, his head whipping round when both he and Athos, heard a yelp from inside the wardrobe. 

“D’Artagnan!” Athos shouted, leading the way, his gun aimed and ready to fire. 

He and Porthos shoved their way through the clothing, turning left, past a truly disturbing collection of BDSM implements and clothing, finding Rochefort standing before a narrow door at the very end of the enormous wardrobe, an arm about d’Artagnan’s throat, and a gun pressed against his temple. 

“Let him go, now, asshole!” Porthos snarled,

“Oh, I think not,” Rochefort chuckled, pressing the gun barrel into d’Artagnan’s temple a little harder, “He makes an excellent body shield like this,”

It was a stalemate, Athos and Porthos could not risk taking a shot at Rochefort, without risking hitting d’Artagnan, and Rochefort could not risk taking the gun off d’Artagnan without risking being shot. 

“Are you alright?” Athos asked, d’Artagnan, he looked d’Artagnan over, his left eye was blackening and swelling shut, there was an ugly bruise blossoming on his cheek, the skin split in the centre and becoming mottled and discoloured as the bruising formed. The rest of his face was pale, and there was blood on his sides, having likely come from his back, since there were no open wounds on his front, though there was bruising from an obvious beating. 

d’Artagnan grimaced, trying to smile, “Been better,” he said, in response to Athos’ question, “Any chance of you shooting this prick?” he asked, wincing as Rochefort dug the gun into his face harder, 

“Just stay cool, kid,” Porthos said, “We’ll get you out of this, I promise,” 

Rochefort barked a laugh, “Oh you promise?” he sneered, at Porthos, “What’re you going to do? Appeal to my better nature?” He laughed again, “I’m afraid I do not have one,”

Athos snorted, “You don’t say?” he drawled, 

Rochefort bared his teeth in something that, if you squinted very hard, and had serious vision problems, then perhaps it could be mistaken for a smile, “Oh, Athos, the poor aggrieved brother and jilted would-be husband,” he jeered, “Do the wounds that Milady inflicted on you still sting like a fresh cut? Or have they dulled with time,” he glanced at d’Artagnan, “And perhaps a ripe and juicy arse to ease the pain?” he took his arm from d’Artagnan’s throat and reached down to grip d’Artagnan’s naked buttocks, tormenting his burnt flesh and delighting in his yelp of pain. 

He laughed with maniacal amusement, “I’m afraid that flesh is not so perfect now,” he informed Athos, clearly enjoying the look of horror that passed over Athos’s face, fearing what Rochefort could mean. 

Swallowing hard, Athos looked d’Artagnan in the eye, “Honey, whatever he’s done…,” 

“He hasn’t raped me,” d’Artagnan quickly said, “He’s burnt me,” 

Athos felt a moment of relief that d’Artagnan had not been so terribly violated, but then felt a surge of fury over what Rochefort had actually done to him and glared at the maniac, “You will pay for every single mark on d’Artagnan and Aramis,”

“Yeah, what you’ve put them through will seem like a walk in the park by the time I’m done with yer,” Porthos growled, “I’ll start with yer fingers, shatterin’ ‘em, before I chop ‘em off, then I’ll go wit’ yer eyes, burn ‘em right outa yer face, I’ll wipe that smug, shit eatin’ grin off yer mug, I’ll chop yer damn lips right offa yer face!” 

Rochefort snickered, “You’ve active imagination for gutter trash,” he said to Porthos, “But you’re still nothing but an over grown ape, dragging his knuckles through the streets, grunting and grousing, using his fists instead of his brain,”

“Shut the fuck up, shit face!” d’Artagnan spat at Rochefort, earning himself a painful pinch of his burned backside, on impulse he kicked his heel back into Rochefort’s shin. 

Rochefort yelped, his hand jerking the gun away from d’Artagnan’s head, giving d’Artagnan a chance to drive his elbows into the man’s gut, winding him painfully, and gave Athos and Porthos a chance to act. 

Porthos fired his gun, Athos ducking under the fire line as he lunged for d’Artagnan. 

Rochefort was hit just below his right shoulder, a flesh wound, but still damn painful, and enough to send him staggering back, releasing his hold on d’Artagnan. The young man threw himself forward to get out of the line of fire, as Athos threw himself over him, just as Rochefort fired his gun. 

A burning pain shot through the left side of Athos’s pelvis. The bullet had hit just below the Kevlar, piercing the flesh just to the right of the cradle of his pelvis, narrowly missing the bone, but travelling on through his body, to wedge in the bone at the back of his pelvis. 

“NO!” d’Artagnan screamed, seeing the blood blooming on Athos’s trousers. He slapped his still bound hands over the wound to slow the bleeding, flinching at the sound of Rochefort’s laughter, not even having to look around to know that the man had a gun on him again. 

“Well, that achieve nothing, but blood shed and pain,” Rochefort commented, his free hand pressing into his shoulder, 

“At least some of it’s yer’s,” Porthos spat, he looked to d’Artagnan, “He alright?” he asked, 

“I think so,” d’Artagnan said, 

“I will be,” Athos panted, he was shaking and covered in a cold sweat, adrenaline hitting his body to keep shock from setting in right away, d’Artagnan was doing his best to keep him from losing too much blood, and, as he could still move his leg, he figured he wasn’t hurt too bad, though, he doubted he’d be walking out of here. 

“Back to where we started,” Rochefort said, he back up to press against the door, feeling, with his free and now bloody hand for the key in the lock, fumbling he unlocked the door and pressed down on the handle, “This has been fun,” he said, to Porthos, who was kept in his place by the fact Rochefort had his gun trained on d’Artagnan and Athos, “But it’s time to go now,” he pushed the door open, preparing to step through, but before he could take a single step a blade appeared from the centre of his stomach!

 

*****

 

Milady had hung back, watching as Athos, Porthos, Treville, and the Police had burst into the house. 

She had smirked, figuring she’d let them handle the riff raff, while she took care of the big problem. She knew that Treville would want to take Rochefort alive, to send him to prison, but Milady was no fool, she knew that a man like Rochefort, would not spend long in prison, he could too easily cut a deal, buy a judge and jury, get himself out on a technicality, and if that happened, they’d be right back where they started, only, Rochefort would be even more vengeful than ever. 

She knew the lay out of Rochefort’s apartment, knew about his escape route, from his wardrobe down to the garage and his high powered cars, she also knew the code to the electronic locks on the key pads to open the doors. 

Letting herself into the garage, she made her way to the hidden door in the far wall. Feeling with her finger tips, she found the lip of the keypad and flipped it open, typing in the code, she stood back, as the door slid up into the upper wall, revealing a dark stair case, up to Rochefort’s wardrobe. 

Making her way there, Milady paused, hearing voices from the other side, by the tone of the conversation she figured that Rochefort had someone, probably d’Artagnan under a gun, creating a stalemate, since Athos and Porthos were too pathetically sentimental to risk the little brat, sighing, she decided to wait, letting things play out, while unsheathing a long bladed hunting knife from within her sleeve and flipping it in her hand. 

The gun shots did not even make her flinch, just had her reading her knife and preparing herself. Her muscles tensed as the door opened, light from within the closet filling the dark staircase, and momentarily blinding her eyes, but she adjusted swiftly, and thrust her blade forward, slicing into Rochefort’s back, severing his spinal column and cutting through his organs like he was made of butter. 

“Hi boss,” she whispered, into Rochefort’s ear, twisting the knife to create a wider wound that would not be easily healed, if at all. “This is my resignation,” she purred, pulling the knife out and plunging it into Rochefort again, this time puncturing his lung and heart, then again pulled it out, as the gun fell from Rochefort’s hand, and he let out a choked grunt of pain, blood spraying from his lips, as she sunk the knife in again, puncturing his other lung. Rochefort slumped to the ground, his legs useless to him, and blood pouring from the vicious wounds in his body. Milady was not yet done though, she was taking no chances, grabbing Rochefort’s hair, she pulled his head back and placed the knife against his throat, 

“I’ll bear the mark you put on me for life,” she hissed to him, “So this is to make us even,” she sank the blade into his throat, tearing it open, releasing a spray of blood, that splattered over Athos, Porthos, and d’Artagnan and sprayed the warbdrobe, continuing to pour from Rochefort, as Milady let him fall to the ground. His body twitched a few times, then fell still. 

Sighing, Milady sheathed her knife and looked to the three men, the sounds of the Police running into the bedroom could be heard and she knew it was time to go. 

“I’ll expect the second half of my payment within ten days,” she said to Athos, who was being propped up by Porthos, while d’Artagnan kept pressure on his gun shot wound, “Send my regards to Treville,” she turned, preparing to walk away, then paused, looking over her shoulder, “And you’re welcome!”

 

As Milady sauntered away, d’Artagnan let out a laugh that might have been a sob, “You’ve gotta admit, despite the fact she’s a complete bitch, she does have style,”

“She does at that,” Athos agreed, panting and gritting his teeth for the pain, 

“At least its over now,” Porthos said, looking at Rochefort’s corpse, “He’ll never ‘urt anyone again,” 

“Yeah,” Athos breathed, feeling a sense of relief flow into him, “At last its done.”


	34. Chapter 34

With Rochefort dead there needed to be a full investigation into what had happened, but there was CCTV footage of Milady stabbing him to death, and then disappearing, for the Police and Musketeers to not be in any trouble. 

With Rochefort dead, his minions were up a creak without a paddle. His bank accounts were frozen and they had no funds of their own, so they could only have lawyers provided for them who were not overly interested in getting them decent deals, especially considering the mountain of evidence against them, all of Rochefort’s past dealings were being looked into, anyone he had done business with was now under a microscope and having to prove that things had been legit, which, for most of them, was not a possibility, since they had been involved in dirty dealings with the last Gang Land Boss. 

Criminal charges were coming thick and fast in the days that followed Rochefort’s death. Murder, Attempted Murder, Conspiracy to commit murder, accessory after the fact, Grievous bodily harm, actual bodily harm, extortion, blackmail, attempting to pervert the cause of justice, coercion, bribery, theft, possession of illegal substances, sale of illegal substances, possession of un-licenced firearms, kidnapping, wrongful imprisonment, torture, arson, Pandering and Exploitation.

Despite not getting Rochefort into court, the Law was being kept very busy with the amount of cases that were up and coming. 

Some of the wealthier of Rochefort’s associates were able to arrange themselves deals in return for giving evidence against others, but the middlemen, and the underlings who’d done the grunt work were all going down and that would mean the streets would be a whole lot safer. 

Several politicians careers were destroyed, as their dealings with Rochefort came to light, they were forced to resign or risk being forced out of office anyway, high ranking Business Men and Women saw their exulted place in the world crumbling away as their business with Rochefort came into focus. As more and more evidence came to light, it became clear that there was not a single pie that Rochefort did not have a finger in. He had sunk his grubby claws into absolutely everything, had created a spiderweb of crime throughout the city that did not leave a single business or place of work untouched. Even small subsidiary companies were found to have links to his network, though, for the most part, the managers of these companies had not known this and no charges were being brought to them. 

 

The press were going wild over the stories that were coming out. With Rochefort gone and his gang in custody, his victims were readily coming forward to testify, all of those who had suffered both physically and financially through Rochefort’s dealings were braking their silence and telling their stories, both to the police and to the press. 

 

La Fare Manor 

 

“It’s horrifying when you think about it,” Aramis said, from where he was laying on his belly, across Athos’ sofa, staring at the TV, where yet another exposé was being shown, “If Rochefort’s plans had come into fruition then he would have owned the entire City, no one would have been safe from him, he’d have been unchallenged King to us all.”

Porthos grunted and shook his head, “Not so unchallenged,” he corrected, “But yeah, he’d have been pretty untouchable.”

“Guess we got lucky,” Aramis murmured, “All things considered,” He turned his head to look at his own back, which was slowly healing, too slowly for his liking, but Lemay was satisfied with the progress he was making, and had assured him that he would only have a handful of permanent marks, the rest would fade quickly once they were healed up fully, and while Aramis was happy about this, he wanted it to hurry up and happen. 

He was not alone in this. D’Artagnan was equally impatient for his own injuries to heal. 

Along with Athos, he had spent a week in hospital having his injuries treated, the lashes stitched, the burns treated and carefully dressed, his ribs wrapped, and general bruises slathered in anti-inflammatory creams to help them heal. 

Athos had gotten very lucky. His Pelvis had only a tiny hairline fracture, where the bullet had wedged into it, as it had tried to exit his body. While he had lost a lot of blood and required both and transfusion, and surgery to remove the bullet and patch up the soft tissue damage, he had gotten off remarkably unharmed. The bullet had missed his arterial vessels, and had done very little damage to his bones, which, considering it could have easily shattered his pelvis, he was very lucky, as that would have meant extensive surgery to pin and plate his pelvis and twelve weeks on bed rest, strapped down in a steel cage while he waited for his pelvis to stabilize enough to be able to sit up, and then another twelve weeks in a wheel chair until the bones completely healed. Having to wear a support girdle for eight weeks, and refrain from doing any strenuous activity was hardly something he was complaining about. 

He did, however, have to spend a full week in hospital, following his surgery, until the Doctors were satisfied he wasn’t getting an infection or likely to start bleeding again, and released him to go home with pain killers and anti-biotics. 

He bore the week long stay with far more grace than d’Artagnan, who drove the hospital staff insane with his frequent escape attempts, to go to Athos’ room, the cafeteria to get coffee that was actually drinkable, to raid the vending machines for snacks since the food was deplorable, and just generally to be a pain the collective asses of the medical staff!

Whom was actually happier when he was released, him or the hospital staff was not entirely clear, since there was joy all around! 

 

On their return home, Athos and d’Artagnan had to face the fury that was Aramis. 

Aramis was not a happy bunny to say the least. With d’Artagnan he was pissed at the boy’s self-sacrifice that could have gotten him killed, and he spent a good ten minutes berating d’Artagnan on his foolish act of bravery, demanding to know if d’Artagnan had in fact a death wish, and if so, could he please get it under control while Aramis still had hair? He was also, under pain of the horrific death Aramis could arrange, to NEVER do anything like this again!

While d’Artagnan promised this, and asked to compare battle scars with Aramis, the older man turned his ire on Athos, berating him for leaving Aramis behind, drugged to the eyeballs, while he went and got himself shot, and thus, like d’Artagnan, risked Aramis’s glorious head of hair, and nearly gave him a heart attack!

Athos apologized, profusely, when it became clear that pointing out that Aramis had been in no fit state to go anywhere at the time, was not going to be well received by Aramis at all. 

Porthos offered him no sympathy, since he had already born the brunt of Aramis’s temper, and had his face slapped with impressive force for his troubles. 

Treville did not get off unscathed, he too, had to apologize to Aramis, and even looked contrite at the tongue lashing he received from the irate young man, and promised to never let Aramis’s family go off again without him, especially since it seemed Athos got himself shot when such things happened, and Athos could protest that he had not, in fact, got himself shot, that it had been all Rochefort’s fault, but Aramis was not interested in facts, he was just venting his frustrated anger, and it was far easier to let him do so than try to argue with logic. 

 

*****

 

Once Aramis’s ranting had finished, he set about mothering d’Artagnan, and Athos, making sure they were in fact alright, and not likely to keel over at any given moment. 

The two bore this, with minimal complaint, as they settled back into the manor, and began to make sense of the aftermath of bringing Rochefort down. 

 

Milady was paid off, Athos having one final meeting with her, to make the official transfer of funds. Slightly awkwardly he wished her well, not entirely sure what to say to the woman who had murdered his Brother, nearly killed him, his friends, and new Boyfriend, and then gone and saved their lives by killing Rochefort. 

Milady had given him a small smile, and promised that he would never see her again, disappearing into the shadows she had come from, and likely out of the City, if not the country, to go and begin a new life. 

 

All four men would be called upon to testify in court, but that was weeks if not months away, and as the pain of their injuries eased, and the adrenaline faded from their blood, they had start to take stock of their situation. 

 

Really, there was no reason for Aramis and Porthos to remain at the Manor. No one was looking for them now, they were safe, and could leave. D’Artagnan too, could go, he too was now safe. But none of them wanted to leave. In the last few weeks the Manor had become home, and they wanted to stay, something Athos was very thankful for, since he didn’t think he could have coped with living in the manor alone after having them all there. 

Treville, unsurprisingly, was offered his job back at the Police, there was even rumours of a promotion for all he had done to bring an end to Rochefort’s empire. 

 

“It’s a good opportunity for you,” Athos said, as the five of them sat in the living room, following a pleasant meal, “You’ll be heading up the Gang Related Crime Unit, you could do a lot of good there, bring a lot of criminals to justice.”

“I know,” Treville murmured, “And a few weeks ago I would have accepted without a seconds hesitation.”

“But now?” Aramis asked, with a frown, 

“Now?” Treville repeated, “After all we’ve been through together, all we’ve had to do to bring Rochefort down, I’m not sure that I am comfortable in the police anymore,”

“What else you gonna do?” d’Artagnan asked, reaching over to the coffee table, to snag his coffee cup, and took a sip, “Become a rent-a-cop? A private investigator?”

“Aren’t we that already?” Aramis countered, d’Artagnan frowned, 

“You mean the Musketeers?” d’Artagnan asked, “Are we gonna keep that going?, I thought…, well, now that Rochefort’s dealt with…,”

“Rochefort yes,” Athos agreed, “But he’s not the only criminal in the City, is he?”

“Not in the least,” Porthos agreed, running his hands through Aramis’s hair, as he lay over his legs, “From what I’ve heard, the other gangs are already dividing up territory, fighting over turf rights, and making plans to make themselves the new rulers of the underground.”

“That is to be expected following the power vacuum that Rochefort has left behind,” Treville said, “We’ve had gang shoots and other violence to deal with, its only directed at each other right now, but..,”

“Others will get caught in the crossfire sooner or later,” Athos finished for him, he turned to look at d’Artagnan, giving a lob-sided smile, “I think the general populous could do with some one to look out for them, or, even better, a group of people to look out for them.”

A grin spread over d’Artagnan’s face, “So we get to carry on with the Musketeers?” he asked, bouncing up to pull Athos into a hug and kissed his enthusiastically, “I thought everyone would say it was all over with now, but if you guys wanna keep going, then hell yeah!” 

“Providing we don’t have any hospital trips for a good long while, I think it will be a good idea,” Treville said, grinning at d’Artagnan’s youthful enthusiasm and Athos’ blushes, 

“A very long while,” Aramis agreed,   
“There is also something else I want to do, once I’m completely back on my feet,” Athos said, giving d’Artagnan a pointed look, the young man frowned, trying to think what Athos could possibly mean. Athos grinned, taking pity on his confusion, “Take you on a date!”

 

*****

 

Treville officially resigned from the Police with his full pension being granted for his services in bringing Rochefort down. The Police chief and others begged him to stay, but Treville was determined, believing he could do far more good as a Musketeer than as a Police officer. 

He, along with Aramis, Porthos, and d’Artagnan officially moved into Athos’ manor for good and quickly settled in, enjoying the playful squabbling that occurred at mealtimes and movie nights, the pranks that d’Artagnan and Porthos delighted in pulling, except when he was their victim, which he was, several times, which was why he found himself with green hair, itching powder in his clothes, and having nothing, but pink lace knickers as underwear for a week!

He also, got to witness Aramis, Porthos, and d’Artagnan coming out of their shells and blossoming into adults, as Athos, arranged for them to get the educations they had missed out on, having a private tutor come to the manor three times a week to give them classes. 

Porthos needed to cover all subjects, while in no way stupid, he had just never been given a standard education and needed to cover the basics before he could move onto higher learning. 

d’Artagnan needed a basic refresher in subjects, but was then ready for working towards his exams, which Aramis was also working for. 

Aramis, was also showing a keen interest in Psychology, and once he had passed his exams he intended to study for a full degree in Criminal Psychology. It would take him several years, and he would have to have practical experience in working with the mentally ill in all fields, but he was determined to achieve this. Athos, when he was told, was very happy to provide the funds for this, both as a friend to Aramis and wanting to see him achieve his goal, and also, because Aramis being trained in this would be a great benefit to them as Musketeers for profiling. 

Porthos, while happy to take his exams, wasn’t looking to do any higher education, had no interest in getting a degree at all, when, Aramis did broach the subject with him, of what I might like to do, as well as be a Musketeer, Porthos had said he’d like to teach self defence to kids like d’Art, and boys and women like Aramis. Both had gotten lucky in having him come into their lives, he’d kept them from a hell of a lot of harm that could have very easily befallen them, others weren’t so lucky, and Porthos would like to make it so, these people, who were pretty much ignored by the rest of the world, would have a way of defending themselves, wouldn’t be so easily pushed around by others, or have to rely on others for their safety. 

He didn’t initially want to tell Athos about this, was rather embarrassed by it, but eventually Aramis managed to convince him to do so, and Athos surprised Porthos, by being both supportive and encouraging. He also helped him, by looking into what Porthos would need to do to achieve this. 

Firstly, Porthos needed to learn a discipline, he knew how to street fight, but that was not what self defence was about. To do this properly he needed to be trained in any of the martial arts, Boxing, or Kick Boxing. It would also really help him find work in gyms willing to set up classes for him to teach if he had a degree in Sports and Rehab. 

This changed Porthos’s views on higher education, and he began to pay a lot more attention to his work, so he could get his exams done and get on with getting his degree. He also began to attend Muay Tai classes twice a week, both to learn the mental and physical disciplines, and to lose the bad habits street fighting had taught him. 

 

“You are gonna make such a super hot Jet Lee!” Aramis stated, lounging on their bed, as Porthos showed him some of the moves he’d learned, 

“Jet Lee doesn’t do Muay Tai!” Porthos scoffed, relaxing, and taking off his gloves and unwrapping his knuckles, 

“Probably good, you’d totally kick his ass!” Aramis said, tossing him a water bottle, Porthos caught it easily in one hand, uncapped it and drank, once he was done he wiped his mouth on the back of his wrist and grinned at Aramis, 

“I don’t know about kicking ass, but there is a certain ass I’m interested in right now!” 

Aramis hardly had a chance to widen his eyes as Porthos was suddenly on top of him and bending him back over the bed, kissing him with a hungry passion that drove any coherent thoughts out of Aramis’s mind for a good long while. 

 

*****

 

Athos and d’Artagnan stumbled slowly in their relationship. Both nervous and uncertain, neither quite knowing when to make the first move, or if in fact they even should. 

With both Aramis and Porthos looking to get degrees, d’Artagnan began to seriously consider his own options, he had two fields of interest he wanted to pursue, Forensic Science, this, he believed would be a great benefit to them as Musketeers, and he was also fascinated by the science involved in investigations, how a single fibre could blow open an entire case, or a single hair follicle could catch a killer. His other interest was Sociology. 

He wanted to help other kids like him, who’d lost their parents and ended up either in the system or on the streets. Porthos could teach them self defence, but d’Artagnan wanted to give them someone to confide in, to share their fears and troubles, who would truly understand, because he’d been through it all himself. 

 

“Why not do both!” Athos asked, when d’Artagnan broached the subject with him, the two of them were in the study, Athos having just finished paper work for his company, that he’d let mount up to the point his PA was threatening to chain him to the desk if he didn’t get it done by the end of the day!

“I can’t,” 

“Why not?” Athos asked, as if it was obvious, “You’re bright, you have the time, I think you should do both,”

“But…, it’ll cost a fortune,” D’Artagnan protested, “One degree is expensive enough, but two…,”

“Hey, Billionaire here! I can afford it,” Athos asked, at d’Artagnan dubious look, he took the younger man’s hands and pulled him down until he was sat on his lap, “I don’t mind the expense, it’ll be worth it in the end with the skills you’ll gain, and the work you’ll do with them.”

d’Artagnan bit his bottom lips, “I just.., I don’t want you to feel that I’m taking advantage of you, or using you just for your money, because I’m really not you know? I really love you not just your money, I mean, the money is really great, but I love you anyway and..,” he was silenced as Athos’ lips covered his own, for several seconds the two kissed, until air became necessary and they parted to breathe. 

“You love me?” Athos whispered, a smile curving his scarred lips, d’Artagnan blushed, ducking his head and nodded sheepishly, 

“I do,” he admitted, 

“Good,” Athos purred, “Because I think I’m in love with you too!”

d’Artagnan’s head shot back up and he beamed, “Yeah?” Athos leaned in for another kiss, and whispered against d’Artagnan’s lips

“Oh yes,” 

d’Artagnan returned the kiss with enthusiasm, that continued to grow as his hands began to roam over Athos’s shift, undoing buttons and tugging it out of the waist band of his trousers, 

“d’Art?” Athos asked, a little breathlessly, 

“, Been together for months, not wanting any longer!” d’Artagnan said, stripping off his shirt and making Athos’s cheeks heat as he got an eyeful of the young man’s slim body, “I’m ready, I want you,” d’Artagnan declared running a hand up Athos’ torso, finding a nipple and squeezing just ever so slightly, “I want you, right here, right now, take me!”

 

It wasn’t planned, it wasn’t romantic, and yet, somehow, through the sheer spontaneity, it was completely perfect. 

Athos’s desk proved to the perfect backrest as he bent d’Artagnan over the polished wood, sending his files, paper work, and everything on it scattering to the floor. In record time he had himself and d’Artagnan stripped off their clothing, and, with a blush he would forever deny, took the lube and condom that d’Artagnan had apparently been carrying around for months, just in case something like this happened, and put both to very good use!

 

The next day, When his PA scolded him over the mess his files and paper work were in, Athos couldn’t keep the grin off his face, having thoroughly enjoyed getting them into such a mess. 

 

*****

 

Ten Year Later

 

Treville cracked open the champagne bottle and poured five glasses full and raised his own in a toast. 

“To our success in bringing down Grimaud,” he said, 

“Here’s to that,” Porthos said, all of them drinking to the toast. It had taken them the better part of three years to take the crime lord down, he had started as a lieutenant in the forces of a man called Ferron, who had eventually succeed Rochefort and filled the power vacuum he’d left behind, only to be killed by Grimaud three years earlier. 

Grimaud had been difficult to finally bring to justice. Not only was a sadistic killer, he was cunning and intelligent, and he’d had none of Rochefort’s narcissistic flaws to exploit. It had been the hardest case the Musketeers had dealt with to date, but finally they had achieved it and now Grimaud was facing life imprisonment, with his gang all locked up in their own cells and his empire in tatters. 

With their degrees completed, and all working outside of The Musketeers, d’Artagnan, Aramis, and Porthos were all transformed from the traumatized and street hardened boys they had been ten years before. 

Aramis and Porthos had also married, deciding to wed within a year of Rochefort’s death, and having a small ceremony with Athos, Treville, and d’Artagnan as witnesses. They’d gone on honeymoon to New York, which had been Athos’ gift to them, and insisted that d’Artagnan must go himself one day as they’d enjoyed it so much. 

At first Athos had managed to keep his relationship with d’Artagnan out of the public eye, but eventually the press did find out, and d’Artagnan had to learn to deal with the scrutiny he then came under. For the most part he just smiled for the cameras and ignored the questions reporters put to him, only doing interviews with Athos, not wanting to be in the spot light himself. 

Naturally there was some backlash over their relationship, how they had met, and d’Artagnan’s back ground, but the two weathered it well, and when d’Artagnan completed his degrees Athos shocked everyone by proposing to him!

They wed in New York, but honeymooned in Rome, telling Aramis and Porthos, that they should take a second honeymoon there. 

 

Between working as Musketeers, and their jobs besides, they were also kept busy with the charities that Athos had set up, the shelter for the homeless children, whom d’Artagnan counselled, and Porthos taught weekly self-defence classes to. Another refuge centre for the victims of violent crimes, where they could get crisis support in all forms from monetary to psychological. Several groups held meetings there every week, The Survivors of violent crimes, Survivors of Domestic Violence, Survivors of sexual abuse, Alcoholics Anonymous, and Narcotics Anonymous. 

While the Police condemned the masked vigilantes that roamed the city, going by the name Musketeers, The Bull, Wild Cat, The Hornet, The Lion, and Tawney Owl, but the people and the press loved them, heralding them as heroes despite what the police might think, since their actions were bringing criminals like Grimaud to justice and saving lives, making the streets safer for everyone. 

“Well, Ten years and we’re still together,” Aramis said, “To the Musketeers, All for one..,”

“And one for all.”


End file.
